


Cerberus

by MsMiaMimi (Mc_Mimi)



Series: Cerberus and Days Not Counted [1]
Category: X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Canon Disabled Character, Charles is almost always wrong about everything ever but that's why I love him, Charles is depressed and deserves a hug., Charles the little OG, Crazy Old Ladies, Don!Charles, Erik Logic is Seriously Misguided and Should be Reconsidered, Erik is Crushing Harder than a 12-year Old Girl, Erik is Working through his Issues, F/M, Fake Marriage, Honestly Charles What Are You Thinking, Hooker!Charles digivolve to, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Jealous Guard who ain't getting any, Kitty Pryde thinks you're a jerk!, Learning Sex, M/M, Make up sex, Multi, Original Character(s), Violence, occasional plot, prison sex (unsanctioned conjugal visit)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-14
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-05-01 12:49:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 134,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5206499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mc_Mimi/pseuds/MsMiaMimi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles is down on his luck.  A runaway with expensive leanings and poor judgement.  Which is why he’s letting a mob boss wanted by murderous criminals hide in his little apartment. </p><p>"Why do you do this?  You could get an actual job somewhere."</p><p>"It’s complicated," answers Charles.  "I tried but… its complicated. Without a social security number...  What do you think it is?  All people working the world’s oldest profession are inclined to be lazy?  Why do you kill people?"</p><p>"I told you. I have anger management issues."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Impressions

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as just so many Martin Vosper feels then evolved into something else. As things usually do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *this chapter edited 4-1-18. No, it's not a joke.

Charles’s favorite corner is not a [corner](https://missmiamimi-updates.tumblr.com/post/172503234432/msmia-mimi-charless-favorite-corner-isnt).

It’s actually a swing set. He sits there looking sad and alone and vulnerable. The sick and perverted are usually attracted to an easy mark. It’s a good thing too because the sick and perverted tend to pay him better. He only rarely attracts the Pretty Women Johns that offer to make an honest man out of him. They’re harder to rob anyway.

So he sits and swings his feet, making himself as small as possible. Which is, fortunately, very small. He aims to appear young and innocent, not used and… possibly murderous. He twists at the hips and rests his head on the rusty chain and pouts as prettily as possible while he waits. The sun is still setting but this particular park is usually empty during the day. There’s no jogging mothers or harried babysitters here. Not where the criminally inclined tend to their seedy affairs. Not since a mass shooting killed half a dozen kids several years ago. Charles shivers thinking of how this particular corner has gone to rot. But if there was still a community and healthy recreation here, he would be shut out of the park.

He belongs right here, now. Baiting the sick and perverted. Pay or pray he calls it. Either they pay him or… he cuts them. Simple, catchy even. Well, the praying part is a bit off and Charles gave up religion years ago as an altar boy. And to think that his stepmother wanted him to join the church… Charles shakes his head and clears it of all the clutter that settles when he’s in a mood. Anticipation does funny things to his mind.

 _“Come on, old goat. It is Wednesday.”_ He thinks to himself. There’s a particular John that pays well every other week. Almost enough to keep Charles off the street. Almost. But the money runs dry in no time at all and Charles is back on the swing set waiting for a ride.

An ugly old brown sedan finally pulls up to the park. It stops just outside the gates and the hazard lights flash before the car goes quiet and dark.

Charles gets up with a skip and walks over, swaying his hips. He stops in front of the passenger door and calls to the driver, “You’re late again, Daddy.” The dirty old man grins at Charles. It makes the younger man cringe; his skin is crawling in disgust. But Big Daddy, as he likes to call himself, is a good tipper. He told Charles up front that he wanted this to be a regular, high-paying arrangement. Laid out his entire sick little fantasy and handed Charles a fat roll of twenty dollar bills.

It helps that this is the easiest night of his week as well.

The dirty old man is really, really old. And Charles has never had to actually see his dick. So that’s one for the plus column.

Big Daddy pulls off and Charles sits back and tries not to think of anything. He knows his lines. He knows his part. He goes to the old man’s house. He lays down in an old twin-sized bed and he stays still while the old creeper fondles him. In the morning after a quick breakfast of cereal, he’s dropped off in front of the park. Easy cash, honestly. Charles tries not to think of the family photos that litter that empty house. The pictures of the little boys that should be grown men now. Thank god he’s not a mind reader.

He takes a deep breath and reminds himself, _“Easy cash, Charles. Easy, regular, cash.”_ The dirty old man pats him on the leg and that’s not unusual. He looks at the man and smiles, “Almost home?”

The old man shakes his head. In the year since they’ve started this disgusting ritual, the old man has never deviated from Charles’s rules. But tonight he turns down the wrong street. _“Fuck,”_ thinks Charles. Its close enough to his own apartment to make him worried. They’re near the old sweatshop a block over from his building. The old man takes Charles to a dark alley. He stops the car in the middle of it behind a large dumpster.

Charles rolls his eyes feeling frustrated with the old goat, “Look.” He’s made up his mind to just cut into the man now and run off with his money, but he’s left plenty of DNA back at that damn house. It’s not as simple as one of his snatch jobs. “Big Daddy. We’ve had a good time, right? Let’s get back to your place and cuddle some more…” He tries his most beguiling smile. “I’m not in the mood for surprises,” he adds with a serious tone. His smile drops and he hopes the young and innocent act is still viable. He tends to age in the face when he’s angry. He might even look his age now and that’s not helping things.

The old man doesn’t bother looking at his face. He’s fumbling with his hands, wringing them or gripping the steering wheel. “Today is your eighteenth birthday, my dear. You’re a man now.”

Charles frowns and checks the rear of the car. There’s nothing back there, no one outside the car about to pounce. Looking forward he sees a fire escape. He knows from years of running these streets that he can climb up to the roof and cross over to his own home quickly. He tucks the knowledge away, but he still doesn’t know what’s going on, “The hell are you on?”

The man smiles at him with his too-big, creepy false teeth, “Happy Birthday Arnold!” He leans over and tries to kiss Charles but that is definitely not a part of their deal.

Charles evades him by opening the car door and tumbling out. “Enough, you old fool!” He goes around to the driver’s side and reaches in to yank the weak old man out through the window. He dumps Big Daddy behind the dumpster and points his knife. “Give me the money!”

The old man starts crying, “You’re just like the others!” He reaches into his coat pocket, “You all grow up too fast!”

Charles sneers at the old man and pushes him against the dumpster. He thinks about knocking Big Daddy down and kicking him until he gives up the cash. But one feeble, wrinkly hand pulls out a gun and points it directly at Charles’s head.

The man is sobbing and Charles is choking on his own fear. This is it, he thinks. Death in a dirty alleyway. It’s totally fitting, but he can’t accept it. Somehow he swallows that fear and swings out with his hand, “Don’t think it’ll be so easy, filth! You bastard!” He berates the man as he tackles him into the corner.

A single shot rings out in the alley. It echoes on the walls and dumpster. Charles sinks down instinctively. The old man sinks with him. He didn’t expect it. The old man eyes are shut, and there’s a dime-sized hole just below his right eye. Gore splattered out from the back of his head.

Charles scrambles to back away from the corpse.

“Azazel! Go get the others!” Charles looks down the alleyway to where a door is swinging open. Three men stand in the doorway. The man calls out again, “Go in the car! I’ll catch up!”

Two of the men rush past Charles. They don’t pay him any mind as they jump into the old man’s car and start it up. They peel out of the alley and the door swings open again.

This time, Charles gets up to hide behind the opposite side of the dumpster.

Another shot rings out. Then another and another. Whoever is coming out of the building is exchanging fire and Charles rather not get caught like Big Daddy. He slides down and looks under the dumpster. He tries to see if the coast is clear so he can run out of the alley. The old man’s corpse is still on the other side, but so are several pairs of feet. Guns fire a few more times and there’s a brief struggle between the last two men standing. The winner kicks his opponent to the ground and shoots him in the head.

Charles gasps and looks at the alley’s entrance. All this shooting is bound to get someone’s attention. He’ll have to run for it, exposed in the early evening light on a public street. Great, he thinks. Cops, gangbangers, and plenty of witnesses. And his regular John is sitting right there, still looking all _dead_.

 _“Right. I’m going then,"_ thinks Charles as he pushes off the dumpster and starts sprinting down to the exit but another shot rings out near his head.

“Straggler?” The man’s voice from before calls out, “Hands up where I can see them!”

The nerve, thinks Charles. It’s not like this villainous bastard is going to read him his rights. He stops all the same and raises his hands, all the while eyeing the way out. “I’m not with… whoever you are. I didn’t see anything. I just want to go home.”

“Home,” says the voice from way too close. Closer than Charles thinks is safe. “You have a car around here?”

Charles barks out a hoarse laugh, “Some guys just stole it actually.”

“Ah,” says the man. He steps up closer to Charles, “Turn around.” He sounds civil enough but there are sirens in the distance. Cops will be crawling all over this scene in a moment. The stink of blood and viscera is starting to cloud his senses. He turns slowly, head down. “I didn’t see anything. Just let me go.”

“Look at me,” says the man. And that’s a terrible idea but Charles does so anyway.

The man is tall and wearing a good quality coat. A wide brim hat and a scarf hide his face. He at least puts his gun down. “You live around here then? I bet you know all the good hiding places…” he pulls the scarf down with his free hand. He then smiles with so many teeth. “Five hundred to keep quiet about all this.  Deal?”

Charles pretends to be uninterested, “I just want to go home. I didn’t see anything.” He thinks about the old man and the two thousand dollars that might be in his pocket. “Just let me check on my friend. I think he’s hurt pretty bad…” He looks up with his eyes all big and hopes this is the kind of man who can appreciate an innocent face.

The man actually chuckles before reaching out to push Charles forward, “Your friend is dead, Freckles. You can either help me out of here or join him.” He raises his gun again and points

Charles drops his arms. It was worth a try he thinks. “Put that thing away at least. I hate guns.”

The man grins at him before pushing Charles again, “I love guns.” He waves his rather distinguished looking gun in Charles’s face. “Let’s agree to disagree. Move.” It’s a fancy, engraved [colt](https://missmiamimi-updates.tumblr.com/post/172503336267/msmia-mimi-eriks-pretty-gun). The kind Charles expects to see women wield in spy movies. Suddenly, the man seems very silly to Charles.

Charles shakes his head and points back to behind the man. “It’d be better to climb across the roof. I only ran that way to keep from getting shot.” The man shrugs and tucks his gun away in his coat. He turns quickly to run to the fire escape. Charles follows, but only because it was his idea.

They make it up to the roof just as the first police car parks in the alleyway. Charles and his new friend sprint across the dilapidated rooftop. They stop on the other side where more cop cars line the street. Charles grabs the man and pulls him down, leading him along the side. “The other fire escape is broken but there’s another way out.”

The man silently follows Charles to an air vent. They crawl down the thing that’s been gutted for this very purpose, long ago by someone else on the run. Charles gives a silent ‘thank you’ to whoever made this easier. They slide down to the first floor and tumble out on some old boxes. Charles stops the man from kicking a box and points to where cops are searching the next room with their flashlights. He then tip-toes over to a hatch in the floor. It opens up to the sewer, and Charles knows from experience that it’s a just a short walk from here to an uncovered manhole on his own block.

The man doesn’t look too thrilled to be getting dirty. It’s almost laughable, watching him half-heartedly slosh through a couple of inches of murky old water. Charles can’t help teasing, “Don’t worry. I’m sure you can afford new shoes.”

The man responds by pushing Charles roughly towards the manhole. Charles climbs up first to check for any witnesses. The street outside his building is unusually clear. He can still hear the sirens and smirks when he climbs down to the man, “Thank god for nosy neighbors. I think everyone’s on the next block watching the crime scene tape go up.”

He climbs up and expects to part with the man. He doesn’t even mind not getting paid. He’s just happy not to be shot. He turns away and starts for his home and is surprised to get another push in the back.

“Oi!” Charles turns to the man, “Don’t worry. I’m not billing you for the tour. Fuck off and take your dragnet with you.”

“I’m coming with you. I need to lie low for a couple of hours,” says the man. He walks up the steps to Charles’s home. “Keep going or I will shoot you.”

Charles rolls his eyes but complies. His heart is beating rapidly in his chest and his hands feel sweaty, but he lets the man in. It’s not like the building has security or anything. There’s no one to call for help. Charles has one real friend here and he’s off whoring at some frat party. Leaving Charles alone with a criminal that shoots people.

 

* * *

 

 

 

They enter his little [apartment](https://missmiamimi-updates.tumblr.com/post/172503876197/msmia-mimi-charless-studio-apartment). It’s not much, but Charles has managed to fit some nice things in here. His little bathroom has a new tub thanks to one happy client. His living room is furnished with a new leather sofa. It’s a little cluttered at the moment, but it’s clean. The front door opens to the living room/kitchen area that Charles happily keeps covered in books. His bed is technically in the living room but he separates the space with a pair of thick bookshelves, a white curtain setup on a black rod. From there the square box he lives in is broken up with the bathroom/closet/pantry. His whole place was painted freshly blue and white recently. He can’t help smiling every time he comes in. He directs the man to remove his soaked shoes before they get past the front door. Charles gestures at the coat rack and shelf at the front door. He leaves the man before going to his bedroom.

A little window outside his bed has the view of the street below and Charles rushes over to check on his neighbors. There are a few people milling around but no one is pointing up at his room, so he leaves it alone. He strips out of the sewer sodden clothes and dumps them in the hamper quickly before changing into a pair of jeans and a pink button-up shirt. He slips on a second pair of shoes, just in case he has to make a run from this man. He rather not be barefoot. He puts his favorite knife in his back pocket before checking on his guest.

When he goes back to the living room he finds the man staring with a grin at the space. “What?”

The man smirks at him, “What exactly do you do for a living?” He looks Charles up and down like he already knows the answer.

Charles crosses his arms, “It doesn’t matter. Are you still paying me to keep quiet?” He raises a brow, “Rent’s due in a couple of days.” He pretends to be okay with the man going through one of his bookshelves then wandering around to his coffee table and touching his computer. He clears his throat, “Tea, Mr…”

“Call me Erik.” Says the man as stops poking around. He’s still grinning like he just entered the Tardis or something and Charles is starting to get annoyed.

“It’s just an apartment, Mr. Erik. I don’t see why you’re so surprised.”

“I thought,” starts the man but he looks at Charles with a raised brow. “What’s your name, kid?”

“Francisco.”

“Francisco…” The man smiles again and Charles is getting tired of the man’s teeth. Maybe he’s some kind of crazed dentist. “Francisco is a nice name. But that’s not your real name.” His face closes off and he looks more menacing as he approaches Charles. No more smiles, he just stares down at Charles until the truth bubbles out of Charles unwillingly.

“Charles. My name is Charles.” Charles steps back to put some distance between them. He has weapons hidden everywhere in his place and his knife feels heavy in his jeans. The man grins at him again and that sets Charles off. “Not that it’s any of your business. Erik.”

“It is my business, kid. I have to know I can trust you. If I can’t trust you, I can’t just let you live.” He says it like the matter is plain and simple. He steps away from Charles and rounds back to the couch. “Drug-addled whores don’t usually keep such nice places. Are you someone’s kept boy?” He takes off his hat and sits it on the coffee table before sitting down. “I’d like to know if I’m messing with someone’s property.”

That really bothers Charles for some reason. The man doesn’t know the first thing about him, and yet… Charles rushes over to snatch up the hat and hang it properly on a coat rack near the front door. “It’s none of your damn business. Trust that, Erik.” He can feel himself blushing over the insinuation he’s a kept _anything_. He is a whore. Nothing this man says should bother him. Still, the thought that a stranger would know just by looking at him, stings with enough force to really hurt his feelings.

Erik acts like he didn’t just tear Charles down with his stupid questions. He’s too busy getting comfortable for his stay. He stops to stare at Charles’s mouth and a slow, creeping smile uncurls on his face.

“Tea?” Charles asks again as he goes to the kitchen to escape Erik and his stupid, knowing gaze.

He can see over the bar that Erik is spreading out like he owns the space. His long legs stretched out around the little coffee table. Then he looks forward at the blank wall, “No television?”

“I read.” Says Charles as his water boils. “Can’t you just shut up and pay me?”

Erik laughs from his side of the room, “No milk or sugar, please. I really like your place, Charles.” He sits back and throws an arm over the couch. “Says a lot about the owner, I think.” He looks at Charles like he knows his whole life story and Charles turns away.

He hurries up and makes the tea, sets it on a tray and carries it over to the man. Erik has the manners to sit up and accept his cup with thanks as Charles sits down on the other end of the couch. “Are you a gangster, then?” He asks boldly. “Not that I saw anything, mind you.” He takes a sip of his tea, “But you can tell a lot about a man if he likes to point guns at people.”

The man grins at him again, “I have anger management issues.” He sips his own tea and looks at Charles over the cup. “I’m sorry for your lost.”

“What,” says Charles carelessly. He puts his cup down and wonders how long he’ll have to endure this strange evening.

“Your friend in the alley? The one you wanted to check on. I’m sorry, but I think he’s very dead.” Erik chuckles before sitting the cup down and stretching back out over couch. “Which I think means you need a new keeper.”

Charles would punch the man in the face if he weren’t bigger, armed, and probably friends with people that could bury Charles in cement. Instead, he smiles, “He was hardly my only friend.”

The man raises a brow before leaning close to Charles, “Are you taking on any new friends at the moment?"

Charles stands up and walks back to the kitchen, keeping out of reach. “Not today, Erik.” He tosses over his shoulder. “I’m in mourning.”

Erik laughs but keeps his seat for some time. Charles hides in his kitchen staying near his knives and keeping an eye on his guest and the front door. Erik passes the time reading a book Charles left on the table. Charles passes the time pacing his little kitchen, adjusting the bar stools at the counter, and rearranging cutlery in the drawers.

After about an hour, Erik stands up and bothers Charles again. “Do you have a phone?”

Charles shakes his head. Now that he thinks about it, his last burner phone is probably out of minutes. He doesn’t bother with calling anyone anymore.

The man rolls his eyes before reaching into his own pocket. He pulls out an expensive looking phone. “Mind if I take this privately?” Charles points at his bedroom, and the man walks off behind the bookshelves and then probably into the bathroom.

Charles sighs in relief. “I should just call the fucking cops…”

It’s getting late, but Charles slept all day to prepare for a night out with Big Daddy. He feels restless waiting for something to happen. And now he’s out of so much money. He groans thinking about how to make up losing his best client.

Erik comes back in with his rich man’s coat and his rich man’s phone. Charles could kick himself for not noticing earlier. This man is a gangster, yes, but at least he could make rent this week. Charles makes up his mind then.

He clears his throat before dramatically closing a drawer, “Hungry? I was about to start dinner.”

Erik doesn’t sit back down on the couch. He walks over to the counter and hovers over one of the bar stools. “My people are coming for me tomorrow. I’ll pay you then for this… hospitality.”

Charles licks his lips and bats his eyes while leaning over the counter, “Two thousand.”

The man laughs since he seems to find everything Charles does funny. “Are your rates going up? Or are you adding a new service to our little deal?” He steps forward but doesn’t enter the kitchen properly.

It’s up Charles to cross the line and make this something else then. “Two thousand is for the sheltering and feeding of your wanted ass. If you… want to make other arrangements. I would consider making new terms…”

“Despite mourning.”

“Yes,” smirks Charles. “We weren’t very close friends anyway.”

Erik doesn’t seem inclined to murder Charles and run off. And Charles can’t speak for the man’s character but he thinks this gun-slinging bastard actually likes him. It’s a gift, thinks Charles. He is a charming brat and he works with what he’s got.

“You keep looking at me… Is there something else you want?” He leans back, presenting himself a little. He’s slim, but his shoulders are broad. He’s short but his legs are strong. A very stylish woman once told him he had the face of an angel and a very devilish tongue. He smirks now thinking of how that interior decorator paid to replaster and paint his little apartment. All he had to do was be a good ‘kitten’ and lick her in the right places.

Erik keeps his distance as if he were suddenly uninterested. It gnaws at Charles’s pride but he can win the man back over.

“What? Is talking frankly about it a turnoff?”

“No.” Erik takes off his coat, “But to be honest, I was thinking of giving you some work.”

Charles crosses his arm, closing himself off physically as he gets defensive. “Oh, I see. You’re some kind pimp then?”

Erik shrugs, “I have a finger in all sorts of pies…”

Charles snorts out a laugh and turns to get dinner ready. There’s a whole chicken in his fridge, he can reheat it and pour some broth… maybe the man will agree to something else on a full stomach. “I don’t have any pie here, but you’re welcomed to try my chicken.” He looks over his shoulder and licks his lip.

The gesture startles a laugh out of the man. Erik looks away and back again, and Charles feels like he’s flirting with some normal man in a silly romcom. He almost forgets that Erik had a gun to his head an hour ago. He’s had to pretend to be out on a normal date before. He can do that if that’s what Erik’s wants. But only if the man wants to pay for one night’s work. Not if he’s looking to turn Charles out on a corner while taking a percentage.

The night moves along quietly. They flirt a little but both back down with the understanding that Charles is not looking to be kept and Erik is not looking for a whore. He explains that he’s looking for an asset. Charles resisted the urge to make a joke and instead tells Erik about some of his clients while they share a drink in the living room.

“I get a few normal guys but it’s mostly scum that shows up looking for someone more…” He almost stumbles describing himself. “Healthy. I’m a healthy person and that’s enough to get some people off. No track marks or rotten teeth or skinny ribs.”

Erik looks him up and down for the thousandth time that night, “You are quite pleasing to the eye.”

“Thank you, my dear.” Charles gets up and walks past Erik on purpose, giving the man an eyeful of his healthy ass. “And you aren’t so bad yourself. Another drink?” He starts heading back to the kitchen but Erik is suddenly behind him, holding him by the neck.

Charles stops and lets the man pull him back. He drops his head and lets Erik nuzzle just under his chin. Well, thinks Charles. He might make his rent after all.

Erik’s hand slips down his shoulder while the other makes an appearance at his waist. “I have some friends who would pay very good money to get their hands on someone like you. It’s not the kind of job I would just throw away to anyone. Would you consider auditioning?”

Charles lets himself melt in Erik’s strong hands. “No. Would you consider paying _three_ thousand for the food, shelter, and company?”

Erik bites him on the ear, “Minx.” His hands slide down to cup Charles’s ass. “Fine. If you can’t accept an upgrade… you’ll have to stay in this little hut…”

Charles turns his head enough to just nip Erik on the cheek, “Don’t bad talk my space. Most of it was earned with very hard work.” He smiles and turns in Erik’s arms, stepping back to lead the man to the bedroom. “And I’m an independent worker, you understand. I simply can’t flourish in a corporate environment. But alone, on my own terms. I can be very creative.”

Erik hums, his hands slipping under the waistband of Charles’s jeans. He raises a brow when he finds Charles is not wearing underwear and brazenly slips his index finger down the younger man’s crevice. “You surprise me. I could just kill you any moment, remember?”

Charles moans and quickly wraps his arms around Erik’s neck, letting the man push his pants down enough and insert a finger into his hole.

“Oh,” smiles Erik. “Someone came [prepared to work](https://missmiamimi-updates.tumblr.com/post/172504088222/msmia-mimi-more-lube-says) this evening?”

Charles pushes back on the finger, arching his back. “I have to take care of myself,” he says breathlessly. He brings his right hand around slowly and reveals the knife he just snuck out of his back pocket. “No one else is going to protect me.”

Erik bites the inside of Charles’s wrist, despite the knife. “That could change. I’m offering full-time benefits. A bigger place. Regular cash. High-quality clientele. My own pleasant company,” he grins. “Why don’t you think about it?” He gently nudges his finger in and out.

Charles is getting hard from this, but like he said. No one is going to protect him. “Condom. Lube.”

“You’re wet.”

“More lube,” says Charles as he steers Erik towards the bed. He ducks away to open his bedside drawer and comes back with things. “No kissing. And we move at whatever pace I set. You get out of line with me, my friend, and I’ll…” He brandishes his knife to make a point.

Erik seems to think this is especially cute. He sits down on the bed and lets Charles kneel in front of him. He keeps his hands to himself as the younger man frees his cock and rolls on the required rubber. Charles stands up and backs away to shuck off his shirt and pull down his pants. Erik tuts at him, “Can’t I do anything? It seems a waste of two grand if I have to keep still all night.”

Charles grins at him, “Three. And so you are paying? Good. We’ve entered into a verbal agreement. No backing out now.” He turns his back on the man and sits in his lap. Erik’s cock is big but Charles is a professional. He’s seen all sorts, he tells himself. “ _This is hardly the biggest_ ,” he thinks. He looks over his shoulder and rethinks it as Erik is bigger than… well, what he’s used to. “You don’t lift weights with that thing do you?”

Erik barks out a laugh and forgets the rules. His hands land on Charles’s hip and helps maneuver the younger man until he’s bent over Erik’s lap. He has enough leverage to insert two fingers and work them in and out while watching and stroking Charles’s back.

Charles moans. “ _This is promising,_ ” he thinks.

Charles is close to coming but Erik reaches around to grab the base of his cock. “Hold your horses. I’d like to try something first.” He bites down on the back of Charles’s neck while lifting him up and laying him flat on the bed. He mouths down Charles’s back, nipping at his sides the top of his ass. “I’d like a taste…”

Charles panics, “Wait.” He flips over and Erik only seems happier with his new point of view. He starts to lean toward Charles’s cock but again Charles panics. “No! No swapping bodily fluids. I’m not wearing a rubber, so none of that. I’m a just a hole, okay? You can fuck me all you want, but none of that. Not without me knowing you’re clean.”

Erik sits up to scowl at him. “Are you kidding? What kind of whore…”

Charles reaches out to slap the man. He doesn’t think about it until it’s too late.

Erik growls at him and shoves him down with a hand to the chest. “Fine. Then be a fucking hole.”

“Wait,” says Charles, “I don’t mean… you can’t just treat me like shit. I don’t do bruises either. Just…” He reaches down and strokes Erik’s cock. The man closes his eyes and relaxes. Charles pulls him up, hand still on Erik’s cock to help guide him to his entrance, “Take your time and let me wring it out of you. I’m good, I promise. Well worth the hassle.” He clenches around the head and pulls a throaty moan from the man. “See. I know what I’m doing. Let me take care of you. I don’t need the boyfriend experience. Okay?”

Erik's arms are shaking where he holds himself over Charles. He gives a quick nod before sliding all the way in. Charles feels a shock of pleasure roll up his spine and down his limbs. His toes curl already, just from feeling so full. He arches back and leaves his throat exposed. Erik falls on him happy to nip and bite as he starts thrusting. His right hand still pushing Charles down while the fingers of his left hand glide over and tease Charles’s nipples, squeezing and pinching before raking his nails lightly down Charles’s side.

Charles is used to all kinds of sex by now. He’s had good sex before, but it’s been such a long dry spell…

He smiles looking up at his ceiling and notes how nice it looks without the old water stains. The interior decorator was interested in having a three-way, he recalls. He huffs out a quiet laugh, thinking of what would happen if he had the two of them together. This man that’s steadily pumping into him as if he were on a mission and that woman who passed all his tests just for a chance to suck him off.

He huffs out another laugh and Erik takes it the wrong way, “Something funny, Freckles?”

Charles closes his eyes and lets the feeling just wash over him. He lets his legs fall apart wide, his mouth hangs open as he quietly pants for more. Erik gets the hint and helps, holding one knee back. “There! Fuck, right there!”

Charles opens his eyes and sees Erik looking rather smug. He can’t have that and he reaches around to grab the man’s pert ass, driving him in deeper. Their bodies slide against each other, trapping Charles’s cock. He seizes up long before Erik does and comes between them.

Erik starts to reach down, but Charles smacks his hand away, knowing the man would happily lick it up. “Suit yourself,” Erik says before renewing his effort.

Charles closes his eyes again lets the sound of their hitching breaths and slapping bodies carry him away. He’s loose and relaxed and feels uncommonly safe in the arms of a gangster. He’s almost dozing off when Erik finally falls apart.

Charles holds him closer, his feet rubbing the calves of Erik’s legs. “How many hours until you can show your face to the outside world?”

Erik huffs out hot breathes against his neck while he pulls out. He moves to lay behind Charles. His fingers idle and start for Charles’s belly, but he’s beaten to it when Charles slaps his hand. “Come on, just one taste. I’m sure you’re clean.”

Charles looks back at him and glares, “And how do you know I am?”

Erik bites him on the shoulder, “You are a very healthy specimen like you said. I think I can trust you.”

“Your cock thinks it can trust me. Believe me, it’s not the best judge of character.” Charles gets up, despite feeling sluggish, and heads for the bathroom. “I have my tests from last month. They’re in the drawer if you want to see them.”

Erik sits up quickly, “Then can I eat your ass?”

Charles laughs, “No.”

Erik falls back on the bed and Charles walks away laughing.

Their first night together is spent navigating through Charles’s rules and Erik’s drive to literally devour him. He’s only more sold on Charles’s professional manner. They’ve just finished round two when Erik offers Charles another job.

“Are you any good with that little knife? You seemed keen on cutting me before.”

Charles groans, his face buried in Erik’s neck as the man fingers him, this time with three fingers. They slide in and out easily and Erik pulls them out to fit on another condom.

Charles stays put, angled with his body pressed against the mattress and his cock desperately seeking friction from the sheets. Erik slaps his ass for attention and Charles spreads his thighs enough for the other man to kneel behind him. This time he enters slowly and keeps a slow languid pace. Charles reaches back to pull the man’s hair, “Harder. Faster. Or else.”

Erik complies and quickens, pushing in and out almost the entire length of his cock. He stops just before the head is free and slams back in. Charles arches back and the man’s aim proves good enough to find all the right places. Charles can’t remember the last time he was so genuinely vocal with someone. He squirms trying to reach under his body and tug at his own cock.

Erik surprises him by taking his hands and pinning them down just outside his head, “No, no. None of that.”

Charles whines. He feels hot and frustrated, the head of his cock skidding across the sheets as he bucks up into Erik’s thrusts. He knows how this game goes. “Please,” he begs. “Please let me come. Please.”

Erik tightens the grip on his wrists, “Oh, I’m not denying you anything. I think you can do this, Charles. Trust me.” He slams in harder and lays across Charles’s back. One hand slides down to pinch at Charles sensitive nipples while the other holds him still. The hand slides down further and a finger slides in with his cock.

Charles screams out with the force of his orgasm, a long slow build that leaves him shaking and sweating again as Erik takes his own sweet time.

 

* * *

 

 

In the morning, Charles wakes up to the fingering again.

He’s starting to think Erik is as bad as Big Daddy. Then he quickly tosses the thought. Erik’s long, elegant fingers know what they’re doing. Teasing, pumping, stroking. Erik is actually good at it. He sighs and happily humps at his own mattress while Erik nibbles on his ears and plays in his ass. It’s all good, he thinks. Easy money. A delightful way to wake up in the morning. Charles hasn’t let Erik kiss him with tongue, but the man keeps sneaking kisses at the corner of his mouth. It’s all rather sweet actually. And Charles is tempted to open his lips and let the man plunder him. Tempted, but considering another angle. Maybe how to charge Erik even more money for their mutual pleasure.

Erik’s phone rings but he sighs as he stops his ministrations. He wipes his fingers off on the bed and turns over to the bedside table, stretches to get his phone and answer. Charles flops over and intertwines their legs. He starts to lazily pull at his own cock as Erik speaks German on the phone. The man surprises him when he turns them over, leaving the phone on the loudspeaker as he goes back to sliding his fingers in and out of the stretched hole.

Charles looks back at the man, “You kinky bastard…”

“Mags? You alright? You bleeding out somewhere?”

“Hardly,” admits Erik. He leaves the phone alone to sit up. He turns Charles over to his back. He kneels between his legs like the first time and lines himself up with Charles’s hole. Charles is sore and tired but he suddenly hyper-aware that there’s someone else in his bed. At least on the phone. Erik raises one hand up to gently squeeze at Charles's neck as he enters him again. “Quiet. The grownups are talking.”

Charles lets him and doesn’t comment, lest the poor bastard on the phone figures out what’s going on.

“Mags? You sound like a horse! Do you need a hospital?”

Erik grins as he starts really thrusting, “Get on with the, oh.” He bends down to bite on Charles's lip before lifting the young man’s legs up on his shoulder, “Tell Angel and Raven to track him down and find… oh yes.”

“Boss?”

Charles starts to laugh but the hand at his neck squeezes again so he bites his lip and quiets down, focusing on the feeling of being used again.

Erik pounds him harder and the phone starts to slip off the pillow. The slapping sounds are so distinct now, Charles can’t imagine anyone not knowing. Worst yet, he can’t help moaning as his used and stretched body succumbs again to a thorough fucking. He shakes apart, coming on his own stomach as the poor man on the phone curses.

Erik erupts into laughter and he slows down. He lets Charles’s legs go to pick up the phone. He slides out and his hard cock juts out, looking red and shiny. Charles licks his lips thinking about his own rules and removing the only barrier between them. Erik strokes himself once before laying back down and sliding into Charles. He moans before calls out to the phone, “I’m multitasking.”

“You fucking… you’re getting your dick wet at a time like this!”

Erik buries himself to the hilt and the oversensitive gland inside Charles is pounded mercilessly. Charles experiences a second set of shocks, dry and borderline painful this time. He reaches up to claw at Erik’s shoulder and that sends the man over the edge. He comes with a harsh grunt and collapses on top of Charles.

“Mags?”

Charles and Erik laugh at the poor man on the phone before he finally hangs up on them.

 

* * *

 

 

They get up and shower separately. Charles tells the man there’s nothing in his closet that could fit him, but he steals a pair of Charles's jogging pants anyway. They’re small on him, hanging low and loose on his narrow hips as he sits shirtless at the kitchen counter. Charles is wrapped up in his favorite fluffy blue robe and attempts to cook a sexy breakfast.

He burns the eggs but the French toast is fine so he counts it as a win.

A knock at the door disrupts their little domestic scene and Erik assumes it’s his ride. Still, he takes out his gun before going to the door. He eyes whoever’s on the other side and whispers to Charles. “Friends of yours?”

Charles looks puzzled and moves over to inspect the peephole. “Fuck,” he says harshly. “Go hide somewhere.”

Erik raises a brow but pads away to the bedroom, drawing the little curtain and keeping quiet.

Charles pats down his hair and hopes he doesn’t look as well-fucked as he feels. He opens the door a crack and spits out, “The fuck do you want?”

The men on the other side force their way inside and push Charles to the side. Its Charles’s landlord, Mr. Gregorivich and the man’s entourage of incompetent goons.

Gregorivich doesn’t hesitate to put his hands on Charles, shoving him against a wall before sticking his hands up the younger man’s robes and squeezing Charles’s thighs. “Morning Martin. You look good and used up.” He slides his hands up to pinch at Charles’s nipples before tearing his robe down and inspecting his body. “Real used up. What did I tell you about working my block?”

Charles squirms in his grasp but tries not to resist. “I haven’t been working on this street. We have an understanding. I just have a new boyfriend…”

The smalltime villain and his men laugh. Gregorivich backs away, “Rent’s do, my love. Let’s see how you made out last night.”

Charles grinds his teeth and balls his fist, trying to restrain his anger. “I said I have a new boyfriend. A man with a cock so big, I want to pay him. Besides, Mr. Gregorivich. Rent is due Friday, not today.”

Gregorivich sneers before falling on him again, putting his hands on Charles’s neck, “Rent is due whenever I say it is. I’m tired of your smart mouth, Martin. I’m going to give you a beautiful smile,” he drags a finger across Charles cheeks, “If you don’t learn to keep it shut.”

“Boss wait,” says one of the unnamed lackeys. “We could always put that mouth to good use,” he leers and the other men agree with him.

Charles hasn’t scuffled with them in months, but they’ve already forgotten. Charles is an improviser.

Charles uses his height advantage (or lack thereof) to head-butt Gregorivich. The man falls to the floor with a bloody nose and his gang surrounds Charles. Charles grabs a book on the shelf over his head and throws it into one man’s face while reaching up and grabbing a knife he had stashed under it. He fends off his other attackers while Gregorivich gets up.

“Leave him!” Shouts the man. “I’ll deal with this little shit on Friday. Let’s go.” He walks quickly to the front door.

One of his men hangs behind, blocking the doorway with his body. “You don’t scare anyone you little prick. The boss wants to keep you whole before he turns you out. And he will eventually. This ducking and dodging us ain’t always gonna work.”

Charles holds a firm stance as he grabs the door, “Have a nice day.” He slams it shut, catching the man’s hand and foot. The goon screams out before getting out of the way and Charles slams it again once the path is clear. He locks it up and backs away to his kitchen.

Erik comes out, still half naked but now holding his pretty gun. “Is that your boss?”

Charles rolls eyes, “Hardly. He’s just owns the building. He caught me on the street when I was younger and keeps trying to force me to work for him. I’m good at evading him. And I’m on good terms with his mother.”

“His mother?” Erik goes to the door and checks the peephole himself. Charles covers himself with his robe and sits down on the couch.

Charles smirks, “If something happens to me, old Mrs. Gregorivich will really be upset. And no one wants that.” He bats his eyes, “She thinks I’m a sweetheart. We play mahjong every Tuesday.”

“You just happen to be friends with a criminal’s mother,” Erik looks at him disbelieving, and rightly so.

Charles shrugs, feeling smug. “I may have looked her up. And charmed her pants off. She’s really quite flexible for a sixty-year-old woman.”

Erik raises his hands, “Don’t. I can’t think of that…” He frowns at Charles. “And stay away from my grandmother.”

“I make no promises.” Charles laughs, “But seriously aren’t you supposed to be on your way? As you can see, I really do need that money.” Charles would rather not beg to be paid, but Erik didn’t strike him as unnecessarily cruel. Surely, the man wouldn’t skip out on paying him now after that demonstration.

Erik pulls on his coat and checks the time on his phone, “We can go in few minutes actually.”

“We?” Asks Charles. “I’m not leaving here… you’re paying me and getting the hell out of my life.” Erik ignores him to keep getting dressed. He sits on the sofa and tuts at his ruined shoes before putting them back on.

“Get dressed,” Erik replies as he puts his shoes back on. “We’ll go for a little ride and get your money. I promise no one will bother you.”

“Says the man running from gunfire not even twelve hours ago.” Charles wraps his arms around himself. He’s getting more and more worried about getting paid as Erik ignores him and goes back in the bedroom. The man comes out with a pair of Charles’s jeans and a clean t-shirt. Charles takes them but doesn’t move to put them on. “I mean it, Erik! I’m not leaving this apartment today. Just pay me and get out! I don’t want to wind up full of bullet holes…”

“There’s that.” Erik considers Charles in the robe and sighs. “But a deal went bad. I was betrayed but it’s not going to be a problem in the long term. Come with me, Charles. I’ll make sure you have enough to pay for this place. If you decide to keep it, of course.”

“You smug, bastard. I’m not going to work for you, Erik.” He doesn’t want to think about what Erik even means by giving him a job with benefits. All he knows is that it took four years for him to find his own permanent place and he’s finally comfortable. Comfortable in his own space and comfortable in his own skin. He’s not going to let a John with giant cock ruin that for him. He’s not going end up a rudderless junkie fighting off HIV or something.

Erik makes his eyes big and pouts. He looks surprising sincerely, “But we’re boyfriends. I’m the best you ever had. You’d pay me to…”

“Shut up. It’s not like that.”

Erik laughs and Charles is annoyed with the man for not taking this little crisis seriously. “It’s not,” he agrees. “Admit it though. You like me.”

“No I was just keeping your wanted mug undercover,” Charles feels really defensive. He looks back at his own actions and tries to reason that he did whatever he had to do to preserve himself when facing a man with a gun. Even fucking him all night and morning. And cooking. Fuck, he thinks. He shared his chicken with a goddamned criminal.

Erik leers at him, his tongue slipping out at he moves toward Charles. “I could think of better things to do with you undercover.”

“Seriously, just stop.” Charles swats away the man’s hands, “I don’t want this attention from you. Just my money. Get that through you thick skull.”

“Come with me, Charles. I promise you won’t regret it.” Erik leans down and lays a gentle kiss to the corner of Charles’s mouth. His eyes flutter close, and Erik slips a hand in the robe. His touch erases the grimy feeling left after Gregorivich felt him up. Charles sighs into it.

“Okay just to the ATM. Then maybe, we can talk about making you a regular.”

Erik shakes his head before licking Charles on the lips, then kissing him on the mouth. “That’s not what I want, Freckles. Not for three thousand dollars. I’m thinking you need a regular salary. Regular work. More opportunity to do what you do best.”

Charles hesitates before parting his lips. He lets Erik lick his way into his mouth and the kiss is so… Charles hasn’t allowed anyone to kiss him in a long time. He lets it happen and sighs when they part, resting his forehead against Erik’s. “ _Fuck_.” He screams at himself, internally. He’s always make the worst decisions when he follows his own heart. That’s why he’s out tricking on seedy corners in the first place.

But Erik is different, he tells himself. Maybe there’s a future for them to be friends and lovers and criminals together. That’s rather sweet, he thinks.

Erik lets him go and Charles backs away, hopefully not blushing because of one stupid kiss. “I’ll just go get dressed then.” He concedes and Erik looks jubilant. Charles ignores him as he agrees to make what is probably the worst decision in his life.

 


	2. Same Old, Same Old

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to anyone who already read it, but I didn't mean to post it last night, my browser glitched o_0 and my router was acting up until a just a few hours ago.
> 
> *edited 4-2-18

If anyone asks, Charles did not get into a car with two criminals.

That would be a stupid thing to do. Whether you’re a professed whore or a regular civilian. But Charles did so anyway.

Charles sits in the back of the very swanky BMW. The man who picked up Erik gives him a brief once-over before shrugging and getting in the driver’s seat. Erik was still wearing only his coat, Charles’s sweatpants and his soggy shoes. He looked homeless but waited like a gentleman (or a predator) for Charles to get in the car first. Charles hoped they were headed to a bank, but Erik settles in to give Charles another talk.

“Why do you do this? You could get an actual job somewhere,” said Erik.

Charles may have had time to dress, but he feels naked on the fancy leather seats. “It’s complicated. I tried but… it's complicated. Without a social security number. What do you think it is? All people working the world’s oldest profession are inclined to be lazy? Why do you kill people?”

“I told you. I have anger management issues.”

Charles laughed and Erik continued with a smirk on his face.

“My grandmother didn’t hug me enough as a child.”

The man in the front seat agrees with him loudly and laughs along with them.

Erik continues, to only Charles. “She still calls me the ‘chubby brat’. I buy her houses and cars and she treats me like I’m utter refuse.”

Charles pretends to cry, “Poor Erik. Poor fat little baby, Erik.”

“Shut up, Charles.”

Charles laughs again. He doesn’t know why he’s sitting here smiling, while half expecting to be raped, kidnapped or murdered for seeing too much. If anyone ever asks, he is not this trusting.

“What if I tell you I’m opening a new bookstore and I need an experienced reader to keep up with it.”

Charles gapes at the man, “Is this some kind of kinky librarian sex setup?”

Erik’s smile softens as he considers Charles. His look isn’t pitying. But it’s getting there. “No really. My new bookstore. The Bibliophile. I want you to head research, sells, and acquisitions.”

Charles sits there with his mouth hanging open until the car stops. They’ve taken him to a swank, towering hotel. The doorman greets Erik as ‘Sir’ and the bellhop falls over trying to accommodate him. All while Erik looks like a homeless, shirtless bastard. Still, everyone, they encounter drops what they are doing to cater to him. Charles knew then that he would probably agree to anything the man asked. They quickly went up an elevator to a private suite where Erik continued his interview.

He asked Charles if he had any aversions to working with children or keeping odd hours. He gave Charles all the promised money and showed him around. The suite’s layout of four rooms was all for Charles. A dining area with its own bar, a sitting room, bedroom, and an enormous bathroom. “Take the day off here and think it over. I’ll take you home tomorrow, with all your rent money. Just sleep on it before you decide anything.”

Charles had walked carefully around the room. Erik looked like he was actually leaving him so it was his only chance to ask, “Why me.”

Erik answered by coming forward and giving Charles one those little kisses on the corner of his mouth. He stopped there and sighed, “…And you like to read.”

A man with room service came after Erik left. He asked for Charles’s lunch order. He told Charles to simply dial 0 if he wanted anything served to this room. Charles spent the day relaxing and exploring. And committing to his own aftercare. He was still sore and stretched and bruised, despite Erik attempts to be gentle. He spent the night alone in a king-sized bed and fell asleep watching TV for the first time in years.

Charles woke up to the sounds of John Wayne and Maureen O’Hara fighting. He sat up and watched for a while before calling room service. He asked for bacon, eggs, and toast for breakfast then took a long shower. He’d just gotten comfortable on a bar stool, watching the rest of McLintock when Erik returned.

“You do watch television?”

“Well, I’m not opposed.”

Erik smiled at him from the doorway. He looked all put together, now. Slicked back hair, sharp gray suit. A pair of suspicious shopping bags. “Sorry I ruined your shoes and clothes yesterday. I picked you up a few things downstairs.” He sits them down on a couch and makes his way over to Charles at the posh bar. He rests a hand on the man’s leg, covered only by his fluffy white bathrobe. “I’d like to see you try them on. Make sure the fits right.”

Charles lets his legs fall open, but only a little. He leans back on the bar, and the top of his robe opens a little more. Perfect, he thinks. His present apparel is cooperating. “I’ll try them on later. Come here.” He bites his lip for effect and bats his eyes, while he swivels on the chair. Erik’s hand going with the leg for a ride.

Erik doesn’t move. Which is frustrating. “I want an answer, first. Will you come work for me, Charles?”

Charles pouts and lets his legs swing. He’s feeling petulant now. A discussion was not what he wanted. Erik puts a firm hand on his other thigh, opens his legs and strokes the naked skin under the robe. Charles hums in appreciation and nods, “Maybe. I need to see some more details first. It’s not that I don’t believe you. But I don’t believe you. Where’s your proof? How do I know I’m not being sold off to some old, dirty, rich bastard? Carted off to god knows where and shackled to a bed.”

Erik's hands stop teasing. His left opens the robe and pushes it down Charles’s shoulder, while his right wraps around Charles’s cock.   Charles gasps and Erik gives him that knowing look again before leaning in to whisper in his ear, “You are being sold off to some rich bastard. From now on, I don’t want anyone touching you but me.” He bites down Charles's ear and speeds up his hand.

It takes a few minutes of necking and stroking but Charles comes right there on the barstool. And agrees to almost all of Erik’s terms.

* * *

If anyone asks, Charles Xavier doesn’t exist.

Working for Erik is a lot like having a regular a job. Charles worked when he first ran away before he got roped into earning his cash on his knees. Then stealing it when that wasn’t an attractive prospect. So he knows what’s it's like to have regular hours, a timecard to punch in. It’s unfortunate for him that the handful of places that employed him all found out he was underage and hadn’t filled out a real SSN when he was hired.

But if he had not gained the experience he did on the streets, he wouldn’t be here now.

Erik encourages all of his employees to act professionally. Wear suits. Mind your manners. They interact with the public a lot and Charles has had to relearn how to be patient and civil with normal people just looking for customer service. Charles had to learn to be a whole new person.

That was almost a year ago. So today Charles finds himself with a new flat. His own space is covered with bookcases and shelves. Just like at The Bibliophile. That place is three stories of books and more books. The basement there, however, is starkly different from the wood façade of the rest of the building. It’s cold and sterilized, holding all the contraband art and texts behind a vault door.

Erik has given him a couple of assistants and he cherishes them. He knows they actually function as his bodyguards, but they’re an attractive pair of really entertaining characters. Charles had only one real friend in his old life and he tries to keep up with Remy now in his new place. But Angel and Armando are strict about vetting who he sees outside of work. And Remy is kind of a drug-addled whore.

For the most part, Armando and Angel stay in the shop, doing inventory and mundane tasks while keeping an eye on Charles. One of them always follows him home or to hotels when he has to see to other matters.

Because Charles has not retired from the world’s oldest profession. Not yet. Handling Erik’s assets gives him a regular paycheck but Charles really does _like_ things.  And he needs the extra money.  It's important that he saves and saves.  So he supplements by batting his eyes at the men and women who come into the shop. Not the civilians of course, but he earns so much more if he offers the illegal book men something like ‘extra service’.

Today he’s dressed like the respectable man he’s supposed to be and helping Angel rearrange their Joycean section because she thinks anything written by an Irishman should be on the same shelf to save time.  Whatever, he thinks.  He accepts that she’s bored and they have nothing else to do today.  The shop is closed while they prepare for a real sale.

Armando is in their kitchen rebuilding Charles’s new fancy coffeemaker because Charles may or may not have broken it while trying to make Erik a sexy cup of coffee. Now that he thinks about it, he really should stop trying to keep the man’s attention. Angel already thinks they have secret lovechild stashed somewhere.

“Professor?” Shouts Armando from the staircase. They try not to call Charles by his real name on their jobs. Charles insists on going by Professor Simon Ludlow. “Az just called about that dog thing. The mark is coming in tonight at nine. He wants to know if you want to come to the dock or go straight to the warehouse?”

Charles tries not to look too eager and probably fails. “Will Erik be there?”

Angel rolls her eyes, “Seriously?” Of course, they both know Erik wouldn’t miss a deal using the Professor Scam. He attends every one of them personally and menaces the buyers if they express any doubt about what they’re buying.

Armando comes down and considers them both and the ton of books on the floor and the new shelf they put up. “It was fine the way it was. This is just confusing.”

Charles shrugs but Angel pouts angrily and Armando drops his argument, probably out of fear.

“Anyway, Erik will be there. As always. The dog thing almost fell through. The buyer is a little jumpy.” He doesn’t have to say anymore. Erik will ask Charles to wear his most academic looking bow-tie and lie about his credentials. Together they will put on quite the show until the thing is paid for. All so that Erik can gain access to the client’s gun running contacts in Russia apparently.

Charles gets up and spends the day in his office reviewing his notes and checking on the ‘dog thing’ as the others call it. It’s actually a three-thousand-year-old kylix that is decorated with large eyes on the sides and the mythical Cerberus on the inside. Cerberus is devouring his own master, parts of Hades hanging from every mouth. Charles has the cup sitting out on his desk where he was making sketches. He’ll include them when they finalize the sell. While it’s just a common cup found in a trash heap in Greece, no famous artist attached, Charles has made up a fantastic story for it.

He shuffles his notes and collects his things before dressing in a checked suit and a dorky bow tie.

By the time he gets downstairs again, Erik is waiting for him at the cash register.

He looks up at Charles and smiles. “I told our new friend that you spoke fifteen languages. How’s your Greek?”

Charles can’t help but roll his eyes. Erik always oversells him. “Gyro. Oikos. Stamos.”

Erik laughs and comes forward, kissing Charles on the temple and squeezing the back of his neck. It’s not something Charles would allow anyone else to do. Which furthers Angel’s ridiculous speculation.

The girl flutters past them and clears her throat, “No necking, boys. We have work to do.”

Charles is overly fond of her favorite ‘work uniform’. A tight black, leather ensemble, her guns holstered to her thighs. She’s visibly appealing and terrifying all in one go. Charles is almost jealous. It’s not something he could pull off doing.

“I’m driving tonight. Tell Az to sit with you guys and chaperon.”

Charles nods, accepting her orders is easy but Erik pulls him back. “That’s not I how I arranged the evening, Ms. Salvador. You will stay by Charles’s side tonight, all night. If this blustering moron figures out our con he won’t hesitate to shoot our expert first.”

Angel rolls her eyes and slaps Charles on the chest, “Bulletproof vest.”

Charles nods obediently and echoes, “Bulletproof vest. She always insists.”

Erik looks to Armando for solidarity and the man stands up and points his gun at Charles. He says simply, “Headshot.”

Everyone ‘ahs’ and agrees that Angel should stay near Charles. Especially since he’s only carrying a knife. Erik can’t count on them not being separated. Anything can happen when he doesn’t completely control the trade.

So off they all go to the docks to greet their buyer.

Angel sits in the car with Erik and Charles while Azazel drives and Armando sits up front. They left one of Armando’s new boys to watch the shop while they were gone. Charles sits uncomfortably in the car with his armor under his suit and fidgets while Erik constantly adjusts his bow-tie.

“Well, you look like a nervous academic. I’ll give you that.” He grins as he tucks in Charles’s shirt, but really feels up the younger man’s hip.

Angel kicks him from her seat, “I am not sitting here quietly while you two have sex. I am not Azazel.”

Erik sighs, “I forgot.” He smiles and looks at Charles, “I think we traumatized him the last time.”

Charles laughs and takes out his note cards. “I have everything memorized. I feel like I should publish this somewhere. Honestly, I did brilliant work this time, Erik.”

Erik smiles softly at him. He pulls Charles close and tucks him under his arm as he kisses the top of his head. “I knew I saw a spark in you. Enjoying yourself, love?”

Charles looks up, smiling. “Immensely.”

“Seriously you two,” interrupts Angel. “I’m going to gag.”

They leave her alone as they get closer to their destination. When they reach it, Erik leaves Charles and Angel in the car to greet the buyer with just Azazel first.

Charles looks out his window and watches the scene unfold, preparing to jump in with his part. He clears his throat and tries sounding even more British. “I say, old girl. Shall we be done in time for a spot of tea?”

Angel gives him a flat, “What the hell was that?”

“My English professor.”

“Don’t do that. You sound like a douchebag.”

“Right… Okay then,” he slumps in his seat. Angel is a good friend, but sometimes her honesty cuts him to ribbons. Like everything about her, it turns him on and scares him at the same time. He’s tried just sleeping with her to demystify her ability but Erik made him promise not to sleep with his own bodyguards or employees. He doesn’t want to examine why he actually kept the promise. He even signed a fraternization clause.

Finally, Erik nods at the car, giving them the okay to come out.

Charles clears his throat again and slides out, hoping he appears professional and educated.

The buyer is a small man in a white suit. Charles reaches out to shake his hand, “Herr Schmidt?”

“Please,” says the man. With his slightly damp hands on Charles. “Call me Sebastian.” He looks Charles up and down, a big smile spreading on his face. “He looks like he’s just out of school, Erik. Where on earth did you find him?”

“On campus,” answers Charles, already adjusting his role. “At Oxford.” He ducks his head and pretends to be embarrassed.

Sebastian eats it up and claps Erik on the back, “I have the money ready to be wired, after the presentation. I for one enjoy an educational experience.” He leers at Charles and Erik possessively stands between them. Charles is grateful he can’t see the man’s face when he says, “I’m going to enjoy watching your little professor present this. Perhaps I could borrow him. I’d love to present it properly when I unveil it at my next auction.”

Erik shakes his head, “As you know, I can obtain such things without difficulty. The Professor is my primary resource for this kind of job.”

Sebastian leans over to look at Charles in the eye and Charles pretends to be interested. Sebastian chuckles at his demeanor, “A little like Indiana Jones?”

Charles reaches into his coat and pulls out his reading glasses. “Not really. If we can move this along, gentleman. I do have other things to work on tonight. Mainly grading.” He smiles and Sebastian eats it up. Erik paid off someone in the tech department at Columbia to make Professor Simon a profile. Charles is confident he can keep passing as a real professor tonight. But that’s it. He rather go home and service Erik than deal with this man and his sweaty grip.

They retreat back to their respective cars. Azazel follows Schmidt’s people to their warehouse for the trade. When Charles gets out of the car this time, Angel comes with him. She walks beside him her face set like stone and her walk full of confidence. They all go into a room set up with a projector and screen. It looks like a little movie theater with a podium and dais for Charles to perform.

Charles takes his place, with Angel a step behind him. Erik, Sebastian, and their respective henchmen sit in the two rows of improvised seating.

Charles gives them all a lovely story before actually showing the artifact.

“Imagine yourself living under the thumb a ruthless dictator. You remember when times where peaceful. When the rulers were good and just. It all comes together naturally, amongst your friends….” He shows a slide of several random Greek men. “That you should assassinate the tyrant. But one of your friends has a flare for the dramatic.”

He unveils the cup, holding it carefully. “Imagine yourself sitting at the table and drinking from your new kylix. All is well in your little empire. Until your wine is gone and the bottom of the cup reveals the guardian of the underworld, eating its own master.”

Schmidt starts to applaud then, but Charles continues with more substance. “It’d be a terrible omen, even with today’s secular society. Bad luck at the bottom of cup you just emptied.” He prattles on, giving a name to the unfortunate tyrant. Pointing a finger at the supposed plotters. Erik sits through it with a slight smile, looking like a proud parent at PTA. Schmidt keeps checking his phone. It’s a little rude, but Charles suspects the man is fact checking with something like Wikipedia. He knows Sebastian Schmidt has only recently expanded his gun smuggling and human trafficking ring to ancient artifacts. The man is no expert and there’s no one to call Charles a fraud tonight.

At one point Erik looks at the man with a frown and he actually looks sheepish, and finally puts his phone away.

“So given the carbon dating, we know this cup was made during the tumultuous reign of Phalaris. We believe it was served to the king himself. The story goes that upon finishing his drink he called out to all in the room, demanding the conspirator throw themselves in his brazen bull.” He follows with slides of men burning alive in the ancient torture device.

“Wow!”

“Wow, indeed. But no one followed that particular order and the king had the hall sealed and almost the entire party, including the servants and guests were burnt alive. Fortunately, he was eventually overturned by the night’s survivors. He himself was said to have been locked and burned in his vicious brazen bull.”

Sebastian applauds and stands up. He walks quickly to the stage but Angel blocks him before he reaches Charles. The man laughs, “No need for that, little lady. I just really enjoyed that. He looks over her head at Charles. “Hell of a bedtime story, Si. That’s all I needed to hear. Janos!”

One of his men sitting by Erik gets up and goes to a table, he makes a few calls before nodding. Armando checks his phone and nods to Erik. “All clear sir.”

With the transaction completed, Sebastian tries to take everyone out for dinner. He lingers on the stage as Charles puts his things away. Staring between Charles and Angel like he’s starving.

Erik is thankfully, not that kind of boss. “That was quite the deal, Mr. Schmidt. But I think we’ve tired out the little doctor. He does have other things to do and I’d like to see him home safe from this shady side of town.” He grabs Charles by the waist and leads him out the building, Angel and the others trailing behind him.

“I understand,” calls out Schmidt. “Keeping everything professional. This is the most legitimate underhanded thing I’ve done. I’m impressed, Professor Ludlow.” He smiles at Charles. “To think that I’m now the owner of a real piece of history, well,” he whistles. “I won’t be forgetting you any time soon.”

Erik pushes Charles forward so he continues out to the car. Only Angel comes out with him.

“What’s wrong,” he asks as she makes sure he’s strapped in. “What’s going on? Are we caught? Did I do something wrong?”

Angel shushes him. “Just keep your head down and stay quiet.” She closes the door and stays outside until the others leave the building.

When Erik finally slides into the backseat, he tells Angel to join the others up front and pulls up the divider for privacy.

Charles keeps looking out his window, “Were we made? Is it my fault? I’m sorry, Erik…”

“No.” Erik pulls him close, “The smug fuck just thinks he can buy anything. I told him you and Angel weren’t for sell. Not today.” He kisses Charles on the forehead. “You’ve been giving yourself a reputation on the side. I told you that wasn’t necessary. I’ll take care of you.”

“I know…” Charles sits still while Erik takes off his bow to get better access to his neck. He leans back and lets the man mouth him under his chin and ears. “I know Erik. But I don’t want to be your kept boy. I can take care of myself. My body is my business.”

Erik laughs, “Literally.”

“Yes,” agrees Charles. He pulls Erik away by grabbing his hair. “And that means I do what I want with it. You can’t tell me not to… It’s all I have sometimes. When this is all over and I’m too old to do it anymore, I’ll quit.”

Erik bumps his head against Charles’s, “When you are old, you will make a perfectly respectable professor. It’s already set up. All you have to do is accept it. Maybe even go back to school…”

“I can’t.” Charles fights the burning in his eyes. His past has a way of dredging up pitiful feelings in him. “I can’t under any name you give me. Not with my own face. Your kind of circles are the only kind left to me now. There will never be a Professor Charles Xavier.”

Erik looks heartbroken for him. To think the man has a heart and that Charles has any place in it is… Honestly it’s more than Charles asked for. He opens his lips and invites Erik to give him one his earth-shattering kisses. The kind that reaffirms that Charles is still a living, feeling human being. He can’t be jaded and just going through the motions when Erik kisses him like he’s important. Like they’re doing something real.

They pull apart when someone knocks on the divider.

“Boss,” says Armando. “We’re out of the woods. No one’s following us and the cash is still in the bank. You want to go the hotel and celebrate?”

Erik turns to Charles and kisses him at the corner of his mouth. “No,” he answers. “Take us back the store.”

 

Az drops them off and takes Angel and Armando with him. “If you’re going to be otherwise occupied, I could use some intelligent life back at the hotel.” He leaves them with just Armando’s new trainee, Sean.

Sean sits on first floor with an elaborate gaming system setup at the register. “Oh you’re back?”

Charles thinks the kid is dopey but he’s responsible. Most of the time. He saves Sean from a lecture and drags Erik back up to his office.

Erik slows him down. He starts undressing Charles, dropping the body armor with a clink and a smile. “Maybe we can put that back on. Try something new.” He raises a brow and Charles ignores him as he walks away half naked.

“You want me to dress up Erik, it’ll cost extra.” He lays out on his wide couch. They already know from experience how comfortable it is, how durable and sturdy. Charles unbuttons his pants and shimmies out of them while Erik kneels down in front of him and pulls off his shoes.

Erik ducks his head to bite the meat of one naked thigh. “I buy you plenty of underwear.”

“I told you, I don’t like feeling constrained.”

Erik huffs out a laugh near his knee before laying a kiss on the head of Charles’s cock. Charles doesn’t mind that so Erik gives him a quick lick before looking up for permission.

“As if you still had to ask,” answers Charles. His hands slip into Erik’s hair and guides him down to swallow Charles whole. Charles sighs at the heat and suction. He leans back and closes his eyes and enjoys the quiet of his office, the feeling of his of hard cock being worshiped by his own boss. Life has gotten so much better, he thinks.

Erik bobs his head until Charles is at the brink, and pulls off to suck on his own fingers. He lathers them up while Charles turns over. He keeps his eyes closed and thinks of all the positions he’d like to try right here. They could move this over to the desk or the rug or the… “Oh!”

Erik surprises him with a tongue on his hole. He’s given a few kittenish licks before a finger starts really stretching him. Erik bites him on the left hip and pulls away. Charles can’t help feeling more excited when he hears the distinctive sound of a zipper being drawn down. Erik climbs on up on couch behind him and starts stretching him again, but with two fingers.

"Erik, please.” He doesn’t even know what he’s begging for, but he feels he has to say something. Erik’s keeping a slow and controlled pace. Its sweet, but it so aggravating. They haven’t fucked in… at least forty hours. Charles feels almost desperate and tries reaching down to his own cock. Erik lets him while he pulls Charles up to his knees.

“Like this, darling? Wet and on your knees for me?”

“Yes,” agrees Charles easily. “Like this. Anything you want. Just please, Erik. Please… ah yes.”

Erik spreads his cheeks apart and lines up the blunt of his cock with Charles’s hole. “I haven’t a rubber on me…”

“Fuck that.” Says Charles. Its routine now. Erik seems to perversely enjoy the fact that he’s the only person allowed to do this. “You know already… just please. I’m not going to just beg all night.”

Erik tuts and let’s go of his ass. Charles is about to protest the unfairness of that, but Erik grabs his arms and pull his hands behind his back. He pushes Charles face down on the couch and pins his hands in place. He’s not hurting him, but his grip is firm, one handed as the other reaches up and holds down Charles’s neck. “You could be really begging.”

“Or that,” says Charles weakly. He finds himself smiling at the turn. “Or you could get on with the fucking already. Whatever.”

That shakes a laugh out Erik, they can’t seem to help being playful with each other. Erik lets go of his neck and wrists. His own hands go back to spreading Charles and then there’s a brief second of hesitation before he slips inside the younger man.

“Oh, yes. Fuck yes.” Charles tries to move his hips; his free hands fly up to his own body. He keeps his head down, but pinches his own nibbles and tugs on his cock. “Oh god, Erik. Just fuck me, please.”

“I think you still have problem with patience.” Erik grunts as stays buried in Charles and letting him adjust to size of Erik’s cock. “I think you need more training. Maybe I need to collar and leash you to keep you in line.”

Charles laughs, surprised he can find the shit Erik says funny when skewered on the man’s cock. “You try that with me and I’ll…” he starts but Erik pulls out only to slam in. The real thrusting begins and Charles forgets what he was going to say.

Erik is speechless as well, reduced to grunting and sighing as he pumps in and out. He keeps kneading Charles’s ass, his right hand reaches under them to massage his balls and Charles keens.

“Erik, yes. Anything. Just please.” Charles strokes himself faster, his hips moving to try and get Erik to quicken pace.

Erik slaps him on the ass, “Not so fast, my dear. We can’t all be… how old are you anyway?” It’s not the first time he’s asked and Charles continues to not really answer. Erik lets him evade the question and starts giving him what he wants. He speeds up and holds Charles by the side of his hips, his nails digging in as he thrusts harder.

Charles cries out as comes on his poor couch. To think of the all the professional cleanings it’s had since it was bought puts a smile on his face. He happily endures the wait as Erik drives in and out, working toward his own orgasm while Charles is a sloppy, loose mess beneath him.

Erik pulls out just before he comes, leaving a mess splattered on Charles’s back before flopping down on top of the smaller man.

Charles lets that slide for a moment before he admonishes Erik. “Honestly, you are such a caveman.”

Erik bites him on the neck, hard. “Mine,” he says before doing the gentlemanly thing and rolling over to spoon him.

They doze there for a few hours before Sean wakes them. The boy knows better than to barge inside, but he knocks insistently. “Sir? Angel’s downstairs. She said a problem came up and she needs you. Now.”

Erik sighs, his breath a warm puff against Charles’s neck. Charles pats his arm, “Go on. Fearless leader. Lead.”

Erik gives him a quick kiss before rolling up and putting his clothes back on.

Charles doesn’t mind laying on the couch for another few hours. He feels used and filthy but at least he wanted it, he tells himself. If anyone asks he doesn’t smile like a dork and bite his own lips.  Not while thinking of Erik and Erik’s sweetness and Erik’s cock and Erik’s hands… No, he doesn’t do anything so unprofessional.

When Charles wakes up again it’s to a reminder on his phone chiming. He reaches over to his pants still on the floor and grabs his new, shiny iPhone.

An alert from the bank account under another false name, one Erik and Armando helped him set up, lets him know his most recent check went through. The day before he was in a hotel, on his knees for a client who bought a collection of Mark Twain first editions. His account now holds another thousand dollars. He drops the phone and turns away, hoping everything he does now will be worth it in the end.

 

Charles eventually gets up and gets dressed in yesterday’s clothes. He pads downstairs to the bookshop proper and Sean teases him. “Oh look at you. Slut walk!”

“Shut up,” says Charles. That hits a little close to home. “Or I will have you shot.”

The boy slaps a hand over his own mouth and goes back to the register. He’s going through the cash in the till and pocketing some of it. It doesn’t matter to Charles. They make enough from the real sales, that pennies accrued from public work doesn’t matter.

Charles checks his phone and finds it odd that Erik hasn’t texted him. He shrugs it off and goes down to the vault to check on their inventory. They have an old gold necklace and Charles is drafting a story about an Iberian Princess and her secret Moor lover to sell to his next client.

By the time he gets back upstairs, he's decided he would really like a ride home to shower and change. He gathers his work things and tells Sean to come with him, since the boy is still on duty and someone is supposed to follow him around everywhere. Sean hesitates, “Who’s gonna watch the shop?”

Charles waves his hand, “It’s got a locked vault full of fakes and contraband. We can always get more of it. Come on. I’m sticky in places I don’t want to think about.”

Sean grabs his keys and hurries up to the front door. “I did not want to hear that.”

The boy isn’t paying attention while he’s joking and walking out in the sun. Charles barely stops in time as a bat swings out knocks Sean over the head. The boy crumples on the steps and two men rush inside, pulling him indoors as a third runs to Charles and covers his mouth with a gloved hand.

Charles struggles in the man’s grip, looking for something to use as an improvised weapon.

“Now, now,” says a voice from the doorway. Sebastian Schmidt comes inside, wearing a black and red suit. He looks Charles up and with twisted scowl on his face. “You look all rumpled professor. I’m sure you’d like a ride home so you can clean up. We can discuss business on the way there.” He gestures to his men and the two that had Sean dump the boy in a closet while making their way to the back of the shop. Towards the vault.

Serendipity is such a bitch, Charles thinks. The man holding him pushes him towards the doorway. Charles bites down on the hand but doesn’t do much damage. The thug easily hoists him under his arm and drags Charles out to a stretched limo sitting on the curb. Sebastian holds the door open and lets the man throw Charles inside. Charles tries unlocking the door on the other side but it doesn’t open and he’s not fast enough to scream or get out of the car.

Sebastian and his goon sit down with him as the car speeds away.

Charles stays as far away them as he can manage in the roomy backseat. “What do you want.”

“Why, Si. You sound so distraught. I promise, I’m not going to hurt you, Professor. I just want some facts. Starting with your real name.”

Charles is ready to lie and pretend to be an innocent Professor. But the man reaches in his pocket and holds out a fuzzy picture of Charles, taken almost three years ago. He was on his knees for Gregorivich, paying for his first month’s rent. He had just been fired from his last real job, his boss suspecting he was an illegal immigrant and definitely underage. Charles had nowhere else to go and found himself on one of the Omega Red gang’s corners. They snatched him up and gave him the apartment but Charles found a way out of long-term work when he met Mrs. Gregorivich. His past lurches up in his throat and he feels like vomiting all over the man in his fine suit and his fine limousine. “Where the hell did you get that?”

Schmidt laughs, like the villain he is, a dark chortle that sounds ominous with his mirth. He pockets the picture. “Why it’s the strangest thing. I was showing off for some of my men. Telling them about the new direction we were going in. I showed them your profile from university and my… human services expert,” he smiles broadly at Charles. “Recognized you. It was very telling. What with the rumors and all… I had to come to the conclusion that you aren’t what you say you are. Martin is it?”

Charles smirks. At least the man doesn’t have his real name. “Erik is going to tear your head off.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt he’ll be angry. Me stealing away with his precious history expert.” He sits back and spreads his legs, “Why don’t you share some of your expertise with me now.”

The goon in the back with them tries to manhandle Charles until he’s on the floor. He struggles all the way and turns around enough to bite the man on the cheek. He tears off chunk of skin and spits it out. Sebastian actually applauds while his man is being mauled. Charles head butts the goon as he screams and that lays him out on the seat. Shaw still looks really amused.

“Spectacular. You’re a bit of a wildcat, huh. I love those. I was thinking you and your little friend would be quite the match.” Charles is about to launch himself and attack the man, but the divider comes down and a gun is pointed at his head. Sebastian shrugs as Charles weighs his chances of fighting the boss, the driver and the gunman. He’s doesn’t accept defeat until Schmidt pulls his own gun out of his jacket. “We’re almost there. Why don’t you sit still and rest a bit? I’m sure that took a lot of effort. Nevan’s a big man. It not everyday someone knocks him down.”

Charles risks kicking Nevan in the balls and the unconscious man whines on the floor. “I’ve done worst.”

Sebastian smiles like feral animal cornering its prey. “I don’t doubt that.”

They stop in front of Charles’s old building. He rarely visits it, but he paid up a lease to keep the apartment for Remy. He was hoping to keep his friend off the streets for a little while, but knowing Gregorivich, Remy is probably still out working college campuses. He’s a favorite for closeted frat boys and dirty-minded professors.

Charles lets the men lead him up to the apartment, they pass one of Gregorivich's goons. “Martin. Looking sharp. Ain’t seen the old lady in while?” He smiles and Charles looks to Sebastian giving the man some warning before he lashes out with an open palm to the man’s nose.

Sebastian grabs him by the arm before the goon can retaliate and steers him toward his front door. “So much anger. Where does all that come from, I wonder. Bad childhood?” He pouts for Charles and Charles thinks of Erik. Erik is going to save him. Erik promised this wouldn’t happen anymore. Erik kisses him and means it.

Charles bites off his answer, “I have anger management issues. My grandmother didn’t hug me enough.”

Sebastian coos at him and leads him inside. All the old locks on his door have been removed. Charles cries out at the sight of Remy, half-naked on the couch and belly down on the little sofa. His pants are bunched up around his thighs and he’s crying while Gregorivich and several of his men rummage through the bookshelves. Charles may have taken most of his books, but Remy filled the shelves with his record collection. They’re all smashed on the floor now.

The Omega Red leader turns on Charles, “There he is! Mr. Big Money! Martin, you little cockslut, where’ve you been hiding. He rounds on Charles but Sebastian keeps him at arm’s length.

“Ah-ah. You get the side dish. This one is for me.”

Gregorivich shrugs, “I’ve already had a taste.”

“Yeah,” agrees Charles. “And you gave me the Clap.”

All the men in the room laugh. All but poor Remy, he keeps his face turned away from Charles. Sebastian squeezes Charles by the neck, “That right there is spirit. I really like it. He’s like a wild horse.” He looks at Gregorivich whose turned beet red with embarrassment. “Clean this shit up. I’m going let my little investment take a shower and then…” He whispers in Charles, “I’ll break you in myself.”

The men all start putting things back. Charles wonders if they were looking for secret money caches, but he’s sure he cleaned the place out before he left. If they found anything it was Remy’s. Poor Remy, he thinks as he walks past the couch. He’s not allowed to check on him as Schmidt pushes him roughly towards the bathroom.

“Now kitten,” he wags a finger at Charles. “You come outta here with those claws out and I’m going to have that boy’s neck broken. You understand?”

Charles nods and backs away towards his tub. He hopes they leave him alone and they do. Even closing the door to give him privacy. They probably think he can’t do anything in room with no window or weapons. Charles would laugh but that would be telling.

He rummages through the tiny room. Checks the commode for his old knives taped to the side and finds them gone. Checks the sewn-in pocket in the shower curtain, also bare. Too much time has passed he thinks, so he turns the shower on. He checks the sink cabinet but finds it empty too. “Fuck,” he snaps. He just happens to look under little space between the cabinet and floor. Its dusty and sticky and gross, but he sticks his hand under it. “Oh bless you!” His fingers touch the shell of something and he pulls out his old burner phone. He turns it on and finds its still has half battery life after its been missing for a year. ‘29.82 minutes’ scroll across the main menu. He kisses the grimy thing before dialing Erik’s phone. There’s no answer so he tries Armando’s.

“Yeah,” answers Armando. There’s crying in the background and Charles can make out Erik’s voice shouting and cursing in German. “Who’s this?”

“Armando,” whispers Charles. “I need help.”

“Charles?”

“Charles!” Erik shouts in the background. Charles listens as the phone is handed off. “Charles! Where are you?!”

Charles is so happy he could cry, but he tries to pull himself together. “I’m at my old apartment. Gregorivich works for Schmidt. He’s holding me and Remy here. They’ve raped Remy. They’re going to… I’m locked in the bathroom, Erik. Oh god, hurry up and get here!”

There’s movement on the other line. Charles hears car doors slamming and wheels squealing. His hope is restored for a moment. Erik pants into the phone, “I’m coming to get you, Charles. I’m going to kill everyone who put their hands on you.” The sounds of guns being loaded is loud and Charles thinks for moment it’s even more beautiful than Erik’s voice.

Charles looks at the doorway and knows he doesn’t have long. He needs to buy himself more time before Erik and the cavalry gets here. “I believe you. I trust you, Erik.” He hangs up before he can say anything embarrassing and puts the phone back where he found it. He stands up on shaking legs and strips out of his clothes.

 

Charles is going to shower, clean himself, wash his hair. He's going to linger and linger until Sebastian comes for him. He’s going to walk out without resisting. He’s going to save Remy and get them both out of here. He just has to keep his head on straight until Erik gets here, he thinks. He just has to act professional.

The water sprays cold after a few minutes and someone pounds on the door. Charles sighs and tries to will his body to comply with his plans. He’s not going to resist. He’s just going to do whatever the slimy bastard tells him.

The plan falls apart when Gregorivich breaks down the door and in his surprise Charles punches him in the throat. He starts to run past the criminal but Sebastian catches him and throws him on the bed. “What did I just tell you?”

“I’m sorry,” says Charles. He doesn’t want to think of what he looks like, wet and backing up into the bed. But he does and he has to use that. “I’m sorry,” he says making his eyes big and round. “Please. Oh god, please leave Remy alone.”

Sebastian cocks his head to side and prowls towards the bed. “Ohh. That is a pretty sound. Anyone ever tell you that?” He smiles at Charles, sitting one leg up on the bed and unbuttoning his pants. “Do it again.”

Charles licks his lips, and looks up at the man from under lashes, “Please. Just leave him alone. I’ll do anything. Anything at all.”

“That’s better,” says Schmidt. “De-clawed you in short time. I’m almost disappointed.”

He stops climbing after Charles when he remembers his lackey on the floor. “Get up, you idiot. This isn’t a free show. Go back in there with that whiny brat.” He gives Charles a mean look. “Make him sing for his friend here. I’d like to keep him docile in the meanwhile.”

Gregorivich struggles to get up, but he manages to limp out into the other space. Charles can see the men moving around his toppled bookshelves. They’re still easily seen but this is enough for Sebastian. He crawls forward and puts his sweaty hands on Charles’s legs. He rubs the sides of Charles’s thighs and leers at his naked body. “Fine stuff. Nothing like your skinny little friend out there. I like a man with some meat on his bones. Quite the little fighter, huh? I bought that academic line completely. And you're built like some pocket-sized marine.  Stupid me, huh?”

Charles resists the temptation to answer that question. He lays back and prepares to let his mind drift off, but a series of shots ringing out brings him back. He grins. And looks up to see Sebastian, pulling his own gun out. He’s backing off the bed as the shots get closer. He points the gun at Charles.

“What did you do, you little whore?”

Charles thinks about making a grab for the gun. Remy is still in the next room, but the Omega gang probably have their hands full now. And the man is right. He is a fighter. He lunges forward and just misses a shot to his head. He rightly assumes that Sebastian isn’t very strong, not without his goons on his side. He punches the man in his solar plexus and he falls over heaving for air.

Charles jumps up from the bed and runs into the next room, he stops just in time to see Erik dragging Gregorivich by the hair. “Where’s Charles!”

“Erik!”

Erik drops the man on the floor, steps on him with no concern as he marches towards Charles. Charles would faint if he weren’t naked and surrounded by criminals. Instead he pulls Erik toward the room and Sebastian. “In here, I knocked him out!” Only they find the space empty. Erik frowns and Charles ducks down to check under the bed.

They both look up when they hear someone outside scream. Charles moves towards his little window first, and looks down to see Sebastian Schmidt dangling from the window sill. He grip is tenuous at best. Charles sighs and feels a hundred times lighter.

“Erik, darling. I’m getting cold. I’m just going shut the window…” He slams the window down and locks it. They’re five stories up. If Schmidt survives the fall, he won’t be able-bodied. Charles can live with that. Erik’s behind him, covering Charles with his coat. He turns Charles around to button it up.

“I was… afraid. For a minute there. He stole you right from under my nose. I was terrified actually.”

Charles feels his eyes welling up with tears and fights the feeling. He hasn’t cried in years and he refuses to start now. He wipes his face, “Remy. My friend. They hurt him so bad. I have to get him to a hospital or something.”

Erik sighs as Charles changes the subject. He lets it go and leads Charles back to a couch where Angel is standing over Gregorivich, the heel of her boot cutting into his throat. “Do we kill the boss too?”

Erik looks to Charles. “Did he touch you?”

Charles has no qualms suddenly about Erik’s anger management issues. “They all did.”

Erik nods and Angel smiles as she waves a finger. Three more of Erik’s men come in and grab Gregorivich, most assuredly to kill him somewhere else.

Charles goes to Remy then. His old friend is on the floor, arms wrapped around his legs. He’s a shaking, teary mess. “Charles. They came in here and killed everybody. They just came in and… and…” He breaks down crying again and Charles hushes hum.

“Come on and get up. You’re coming home with me.”

“No,” says Angel. She hovers them, “He’s a junkie, Charles. I don’t want you around that kind of element.”

“I’ve been around him for years,” argues Charles. “This is the first time I’ve been in shootout. Thanks for the stellar security, by the way.” It’s unfair to snap at her but he doesn’t want to abandon Remy to this place. Not when he found a way out. “You people got me into this mess. Leaving poor Sean…”

“Sean’s been dealt with.” Erik says it with so much venom, Charles has to look up to see if it’s the same man. He finds Erik with a nasty scowl on his face. He continues, with his teeth bared, “For now on, Angel is in charge of your security. It will be her only job for the foreseeable future.” He levels her a with a dangerous look but she doesn’t cower before his glare.

She bites off something in Spanish and stomps off, leaving them to gather Remy and take him downstairs.

Charles is surprised there’s no cops at first, but then he hears the sirens. He thanks god for their slow reaction time and ignores the feet dangling several stories above his head.

Erik’s people gather a few prisoners and pile up into three vans. Erik’s favorite BMW is missing from action, but he loads Charles and Remy into a SUV.

All sorts of thoughts churn in Charles’s head. He wants to lean on Erik for support after his ordeal, but refuses to let go of Remy. The other man is still shaking and sobbing. Charles holds him close. Someone riding in the front seat passes back another coat and he covers his friend with it.

Charles sees that Angel is driving. She clenches her jaw every time she looks in the rear-view mirror. Erik sits beside Charles, not touching or looking at him. He has his phone out he’s typing away at it quickly. Charles doesn’t bother to look. He just hopes they’ll get home soon.

The caravan doesn’t stop at the hotel, the bookstore, or Charles’s flat. It keeps going and going. After almost thirty minutes of driving, Charles realizes they’re leaving the city altogether. “Erik. Where are we going?”

Erik ignores him and keeps checking his phone.

Charles has had enough of that. Remy has fallen asleep on his shoulder and they both stink with sweat and sex and grime. He swats Erik’s hand until the man looks up. “Where are we going?”

Erik sighs and finally puts the phone down. He reaches up to comb his fingers through Charles hair and gives him a peck on the mouth. “We’ll come back, Charles. You’ll see your books we when we’re done.”

“Done doing what?”

Erik kisses him again, this time on his forehead before squeezing his neck and shoulder. He backs away and gives a reassuring smile. Charles feels lighter just from seeing it. But Erik answers, “You said they all touched you.”

Charles nods, remembering. And now they’re all dead or on their way to be dead. That’s a lot of bodies to think about…

“And now I’m going to deal with Schmidt’s entire syndicate. His bosses. His allies. His family. They’re all going to be dealt with, Charles. For you.” He kisses Charles again like he just handed the younger man a bouquet of flowers.

If anyone asks, Charles certainly did not cry then. There was simply something in his eye.

 


	3. Matches and Tinder

Charles fell asleep in the car and woke up when they finally stopped. Erik got out and tapped Charles on the shoulder, “Come on and get up. We’re somewhere safe.”

The car doors open and a man with a heavy black bag pulls Remy out. Charles tries to stop him but Erik pulls him back.

“My personal doctor. Simon, this is Hank. Hank this Simon.”

“Hello,” says the man without even looking at Charles. He pulls Remy out and a young woman comes up to the SUV with a gurney. They lay Remy down and back away.

Charles steps out of the car, barefoot and still naked under the coat. The sun is setting and the sky is turning purple and orange. Dark clouds on the horizon are about to bring in a storm from the city. Charles shivers in the air before trying to walk on the grass. Erik tuts at him and lifts him up. “Don’t. You’ll cut your feet on the stones.”

There’s no stones in the perfectly manicured lawn, and the paved path in front of them is smooth. Charles is annoyed with the princess carry but he’s too distracted with their surroundings to really protest. A large white mansion looms in front of them, but they are parked in front of a little cottage. Erik carries him to the door and Charles watches over his shoulder as Remy is wheeled toward the mansion. “Where are they going?”

“I have medical staff there. Your friend will be taken care off. I can offer him a job after he gets better.” Erik manages to open the door and takes Charles into the cottage. It’s almost romantic, being carried over the threshold. There’s an actual fire burning, a bearskin rug, a big bed with fluffy quilts. Even a bottle of champagne near the bed.

Charles holds up his left hand and wiggles his bare ring finger. “Are we on honeymoon?”

Erik makes a weird face before he laughs, his whole body shaking as he deposits Charles on the bed. Charles likes the way his face looks. It takes years off his face, worry lines replaced with laugh lines. Erik leans down to nip at his finger before backing away. He waves his own hand in front of Charles and Charles laughs, slapping it away from his face.

He’s heard the story of the ring Erik wears on his pinky, a plain gold thing that his grandfather gave his grandmother. Apparently she pawned it to buy the pretty gun Erik now owns. Erik had to track down the ring himself and wears it now to remember his late grandfather. Charles wishes he could meet this infamous Mrs. Lehnsherr someday. But Erik forbid him from doing so. He thinks Charles has thing for little gray-haired, old women. And he’s jealous.

“This is the caretaker’s place. He doesn’t like the main house,” explains Erik.

“Ah,” says Charles. But he doesn’t really get what’s going. “The caretaker. Of course.”

Erik helps him out of the coat, bares his teeth when he sees bruises on Charles’s neck and shoulders. His hands in particular. He pulls one hand up to kiss the bruised knuckles. “I’m so sorry, Charles.”

Charles huffs, “Good, because these are all your marks. You idiot.” He looks up and smiles. “I wasn’t, um… You came just in time. Thank you Erik.” He turns his hand in Erik’s and reaches out to the man’s face. “And thank you for getting Remy. He got the worst of it before I was taken.”

Erik sits down on the bed and kisses Charles on the neck and ear before moving away. “Good. The little shit probably sold you out. I’m surrounded by the most incompetent…” He gets up and paces the rug in front of Charles. “None of this should have happened. You should have been safe at the bookstore. You should have been safe at home. Sean, that fucking moron!”

“He’s just a kid, Erik.” Charles stretches and feels Erik’s eyes following the length of his body. Good, he thinks. The man probably needs to loosen up. “Is there some clothes I can put on?”

Erik scrubs his face with his hand and stamps his foot. “I forgot. I’ll go get you something from the house. Do not put on any of Logan’s shirts. The man always smells like a damn hog. He probably washes his clothes with a rock in the river.” He goes out the door and shuts its with such force the windows rattle.

Charles is left naked and alone on a stranger’s bed. He’s used to that. So he gets up and pads around like a cat. There’s a wide, ugly plaid couch and lots of stuffed, dead animals. Maps of Canada, South America, and Japan hanging on the wall. Charles explores until he finds a little bathroom with a giant claw-toed tub. He sighs in relief and reasons he could use another bath.

By the time the tub is full and he’s washing with a stranger’s soap, Erik returns. He comes in the bathroom with a little bundle of clothes.   “These should fit. There’s a guy here about your size.”

“Where is here, exactly?” Asks Charles. He leans back and relaxes as he soaks away his aches. “Is Remy going to be alright? Do you think Schmidt is dead? What happened to the kylix?” He rambles, his mind going twenty places at once. They’ve had a long day and Charles just wants to wash it all away. “You didn’t answer your phone when I called. I was so scared, Erik… I want to take Remy home with me. Is he okay?”

Erik sits on the rim of the tub, dipping his hand in the water to stroke the outside of Charles’s arm. “Armando found your cup in Schmidt’s car when we were looking for you. Hank says that boy wasn’t too hurt.” His face is closed off and Charles feels like the man is lying to him. Erik avoids looking him in the eye. “This is the Heart of Gold Estate. Well… not really. My grandfather called it Bordello Sunrise and then that song came out. Still, it’s a safe place to be. City cops won’t come out here. They take in too much protection money.”

Charles sits up, absorbing the information. “You took me to a brothel?” Charles stares at Erik with the most affronted look he can manage, eyebrows raised and mouth open.

“Fingers in pies,” he shrugs and tries smiling at Charles.

Charles rolls his eyes and sits back, “You could have sent me here in the first place. Instead you had me dress up and risked my life with your stupid games. Pointless, stupid charades…” He crosses his arms and sinks in the water. “You’re an idiot. I should never have followed you up with it. I’m a fucking idiot, too. I wished I’d never met you.”

He sinks down further feeling suddenly depressed about his prospects. His feelings are starting to boil over the surface and he just wants to scream or drown himself. Or drown Erik. Whichever is more satisfying. Charles stops with just his face out of the water and the rest of body, save his knees, are submerged.

Erik strokes his arms through Charles’s little outburst, which only makes Charles even more upset. The man clearly isn’t listening. “I should quit and go back to my stupid park corner. My stupid, pervert Johns never caused me as trouble as you have.”

Erik’s hand stops caressing his arms and grabs Charles by a handful of hair, pulling him out the water

“Ah! Erik, no!” Charles lashes out but Erik dunks him in the bath water once before pulling him up.

“Another?” He asks before doing it again. Charles gasps and struggles to hold his breath in time before he’s pulled roughly out of the tub. Erik scoops him up and pulls the younger man to his lap. “Are you sober now?”

Charles chokes and sputters, swatting at Erik’s arm and face before the man restrains his hands. “Fuck you, Erik. I was scared…” He sobs and leans forward. “And you had promised.”

“I know.” Erik kisses the top of his head like this little fit of violence between them is over.

Charles lets him have the last word. He lets himself really cry for the first time in years. The day’s events finally catching up with him. He sobs and sobs until he falls asleep right there in Erik’s arms. When he wakes up, he’s alone and naked again in the stranger’s bed.

 

* * *

 

 

Over the next few days Charles learns a lot about the Heart of Gold. According to the current Madame, it was founded by Erik’s grandmother, not his grandfather. But his grandfather takes all the credit. It’s been a working institution outside the city for over sixty years. And it doesn’t actually belong to Erik. He’s still a partner, but it was sold to a former Madame and passed down to her daughter, Ororo. Charles was told to stay in the cottage that belongs to the ‘caretaker’ and head of security. He hasn’t actually seen the man since he’s camping in the woods somewhere outside the house. But Charles ignored Erik’s rule and went to the house and mingled with the colorful characters working out of it. And then there’s Angel, since she’s still on babysitting duty.

Angel keeps giving Charles dirty looks and avoids speaking to him most of the time, but she’s always nearby. At present, Charles is in the solarium, taking tea with Madame Munroe and chatting with a girl called ‘Kitty’.   Angel stays just outside the room, sitting in the lap of a rather large blonde woman. It gives Charles some ideas but he rather not be caught breaking contract when Erik returns. Instead he focuses on his present company.

“So you haven’t actually,” he waggles his eyebrows and the girl before blushes and ducks her head.

Ororo laughs, “She’s actually the daughter of a friend of mine, Simon. I’m not going turn the poor child out. But she’s safer here than on gun runs with her mom.”

Kitty nods, “But I could if I wanted. I’m not a kid.” She throws back her shoulders and crosses her legs to match her guardian. She looks adorable.

Ororo pats her on the leg, “Sure honey. Fourteen is all grown up.”

Kitty stamps her foot and storms off. Charles and Ororo laugh but watch to see her safely navigate between the men and women working with clients in the next parlor to go back to her own room. Alone.

“She’s a little impressionable. Erik is a terrible influence on her. He started working here doing odd jobs when he was a kid and tells her all kinds of stories. Honestly all he did was fix things and run off Johns.” She rolls her eyes thinking of young Erik. Charles smiles imagining him here learning how to be thug. She continues, “He sends me runaways sometimes. If they can’t care for themselves or fight, he just leaves them on my doorstep like I’m Mother Teresa.” She laughs, “Do you know how hard it is to enroll a kid in public school from a house that shouldn’t exist?”

Charles smiles at her. He’s seen for himself the handful of kids here, untouched apparently but with shadows under their eyes. Whatever they’ve seen or whatever has hurt them did so outside of this house. Charles knew moments after meeting Ororo that she was not the kind to tolerate cruelty. She’s good people, and Charles finds it easy to talk to her.

She sits back and looks at Charles’s hands.   Charles tries tucking them between his legs. His hands have always embarrassed him. His bitten nails and blunt fingers. But then her eyes settle on his face, a smile twisting the corners of her mouth. “Erik says you’re off limits for everyone here. I didn’t know he had settled down.”

“Hardly,” sputters Charles. He hopes his face isn’t as red as it feels. “We’re in a working relationship… that’s all. He’s just protective of me, but I can take care of myself.”

“Excellent. Then you wouldn’t mind if I tried to poach you.”

Charles considers it for moment but shakes his head, “I’d like to get back home. And take Remy with me.” He’s already said so a thousand times and he’ll say it a thousand more. He knows Erik doesn’t want Charles and Remy to be around each other but he rather not leave his friend behind, even though it is seems safe here. “Is he doing any better,” he asks. He hasn’t actually seen their infirmary yet, but he spoke to their nervous, little Dr. McCoy yesterday. The man had said the tearing and bleeding had been awful, but he didn’t think surgery was needed. Remy was on bedrest and they would address his heroin habit and treat him for syphilis later.

Ororo sets her cup down and turns serious, “Do you think you can really give him the care he needs? I have people here who can discreetly set him straight. Not just McCoy, but a physical trainer, a therapist. I can see that your boy really recovers from his trauma while he’s here. I can help you too, Charles.”

She gives him the same look Erik does when they’re alone. The one that says ‘I feel so sorry you’ and it makes Charles want to flip the table. “You don’t know the first thing about me, Madame. I don’t need your help.”

She crosses her arms over her chest and sighs, suddenly looking older and wiser than the woman who was flirting with him a few hours ago. “I know a great deal about you, Charles Francis Xavier.”

Charles can’t hear his teacup shattering on the floor. His ears are ringing with her voice in his head. “How do you know that name?” Everyone here, even Angel, has called him Simon. Only Erik knows his last name, and even then…

She smiles softly at him and reaches out to hold his hand but he snatches it away. “Oh, Charles. If I had known you had fallen this hard after they died…”

Charles stands up, about to walk away or scream or cry. He doesn’t know what to do. He looks to the parlor and sees that Angel left with her blonde friend. He sits at Ororo’s feet and begs her, “Please don’t tell them. Please don’t tell anyone. How did you know?”

“Oh honey,” she combs her fingers through his hair, “You’re the spitting image of your father. I’d know those eyes anywhere.”

Charles rocks back and forth on his knees, sobbing. Ororo pets him and tries to quiet him but it’s been so long, he thinks. So long since anyone called him by that name… “How on earth did you know my father?” He never met his father. The man died before he was even born. He rests his head in Ororo’s lap and prepares himself for a story about his father and this seedy place.

Madame Munroe laughs instead, “We met at boarding school. My mother didn’t want me to make the same choices she did. So she sent me to Sweden for a couple of years. Your father was one of my classmates.” She laughs again and slaps Charles on the shoulder, “He didn’t know about this place, not really. I told him my family owned nightclubs and he believed me. Brian was so open and trusting.”

Charles looks at her and wipes his eyes. “You were friends?”

“Yeah,” she says as she pulls him up to sit by her. “He was a good man. He had little stars in his eyes every time he saw Sharon,” she chuckles. “I always thought she was a stuck up bitch, but you couldn’t tell Brian that. They married right out of school.”

Charles lets his head fall on her shoulder, “He died though. She remarried and then she died…”

“I’m sorry, Charles.” She rubs his shoulder, “I didn’t know about the fucker selling Brian’s company off. And your home and everything. I thought they were at least taking care of you. Last I heard, Brian’s son was with his step-parents in California. How did you get way out here?”

Charles sniffles and tries to wipe the snot off his face in a dignified manner. With the back of his hand. “That’s a long story, Madame.”

She combs her fingers in his hair again and lets him get up, “I wouldn’t mind hearing it someday. And don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone. Not even Erik.”

Charles nods, trusting this woman. She does have kind eyes and she takes care of her people. He can see why his father would befriend someone so… responsible. He walks away, hoping to avoid Angel while his face is still splotchy. “ _God,”_ he thinks. _“If I still prayed like a good boy, would you be throwing this at me now?”_ He makes it all the way back to the cottage and stays there for the next few days, thinking about his childhood and what-ifs and had-nots. What if he had found Ororo years ago? What if he hadn’t run away? He keeps it to himself until Erik returns almost a week later.

 

* * *

 

Charles is shaving in bathroom when he hears music in the other room. It’s something loud and classical and Erik starts muttering curses as he turns it off. Charles smiles and decides to finish his face as Erik fights with the caretaker’s ancient stereo.

When he comes out, all ready for bed in just a borrowed t-shirt and loose sweat pants, he finds Erik kneeling in front of the fireplace. “It’s too warm outside for a fire. Why on earth do you have this lit?”

“It’s romantic. People like romantic.”

Erik turns around so fast he probably gives himself whiplash. “You’ve been entertaining in here? How?” He stands up and marches toward Charles, “I told Angel to watch you!”

Charles doesn’t like Erik’s controlling tone. “And she has. Fuck, Erik. What’s gotten into you?” He walks away before their fight escalates again. He remembers the dunking and thinks he owes Erik a few rounds. But he rather not start that kind of fight with his… whatever Erik is. Not while Erik is always surrounded by supportive henchmen, anyway. Perhaps one day they can have an honest fight, just the two of them, nothing held back. Charles watches as Erik walks away. The muscles ripples in his back under his shirt. His skinny legs stalks away with hidden strength. Charles knows the man runs like demon and trains hard when he’s not running his little empire. Charles smiles to himself thinking, _“I’d still put money on me.”_

Erik sinks down on the sofa, dropping his argument for now. “I’m sorry, Charles. I just want to know you’re safe.” His tone is clipped, automatic like he’s reading from a script. What Erik wants out loud is not always the same as want Erik _really_ wants. Charles can only guess.

“You want me to start wearing a chastity belt when you’re gone?” Charles goes to the bed and lays down, “Honestly, Erik. I told you… You can’t police me like that. It’s not fair.” Erik hums in what is either agreement or a quiet, ‘of course it is’. Charles is not going to bother with it anymore. He sighs before sitting up on his elbows and pouting. “I missed you, you know.”

Erik looks back at him, a wry smile stretching across his face. “Did you really? You didn’t make any new friends in the house?”

Charles shrugs, “We may have traded some trade secrets. Swapped some strategies.” His legs spread a little, his half-hard cock tenting the bottom of the long t-shirt. The loose pants do little to restrict him. Charles has a mind to shimmy until they slip down and display some skin now. Erik makes a noise from the couch and Charles tries not to smile too hard. He fails, and winds up grinning.

Erik gets up and stands at the foot of the bed so Charles rolls over to him. He sits up on his knees and throws his arms around Erik’s neck. The man hums, “Was there nothing to read over there?”

Charles pouts again and bats his eyes, “I don’t like romance novels.” He stretches up to lick Erik on the lips. Erik’s right hand holds Charles’s steady, while the left hand sneaks under the t-shirt. The gold ring skims across Charles’s spine and elicits a shiver, which only encourages Erik to do it again. Charles arches his back, “The only diversion I had was thinking about all the things I wanted to do with you.” He licks Erik’s mouth again and backs off. “Take off your shirt.”

Erik laughs, and doesn’t listen. Instead he crosses his arms. “Who made you the boss?”

“I made me the boss. And as Boss, I chose to abuse my power. Now take off your shirt. And do a backflip.” He says seriously.

Erik covers his face with hands, throwing his head back as he laughs harder. When he calms down he looks Charles in the eye, “What in the world makes you think I can do a back flip.”

“Ah! So you can take off your shirt off?”

Erik pushes him down in answer then quickly strips his shirt. “There. Any more orders, _boss_?”

Charles crawls back up to him with a smile and kisses Erik on mouth, then the neck and moves to his bare chest. He licks at one nipple while pinching the other. He bites the center of Erik’s chest, just over his sparse hair. Then moves down to bite and suck marks on Erik’s chest before sucking on one of his nipples. Erik grabs a handful of Charles’s hair to guide him downward. Charles kisses lightly all the way to his navel before pulling away. “My, my. Aren’t we in a hurry.” Erik grunts in frustration and Charles huffs out a laugh before sliding his hands down to the man’s narrow’s waist and palming his hard cock.

“Stop playing around…”

“No.” Charles backs away again to take in the sight before him. Erik is flushed and panting, his cock tenting the front of his slacks. “Tell me how much you missed me.” He slides his fingers up and down the covered shaft.

“Ah,” gasps Erik. “I missed you so much…” He frowns with his eyes closed as Charles continues to stroke him. “I missed you like…”

“Oh no, darling.” Teases Charles. “I didn’t ask for poetry. You’d be terrible at poetry; I can just tell.”

Erik grunts and Charles finally stops teasing, pulling on Erik’s waistband until his dusty pink cock is free. Charles appreciates the sight for a second, not even touching it. Erik closes his eyes, trusting Charles to do something in a moment.

So Charles gets up and leaves him.

“Charles!”

Charles laughs as he goes into the bathroom, “I didn’t want to start a reunion without anything to ease the way. Lay down.” He smirks to himself in the bathroom mirror, “Lay down, Erik!” He digs around in the bathroom looking for a bottle of lotion he knows he saw earlier. The man who lives here doesn’t keep lube or condoms in his nightstand. Charles finds that terribly suspicious. He finds a bottle of plain stuff that smells a little like vanilla. It’ll do, he thinks.

When Charles comes back to the bed, he finds Erik completely naked and still at the foot of the bed. He’s braces himself with one arm, his back arched while he reaches behind himself to stretch his hole. He stops and smiles at Charles before laying down on his belly and spreading his legs. He hides his face in his arms. His pert ass exposed and on display for Charles.

Charles has been hungry on the streets. Starved for food, attention, love… He doesn’t just ignore free meals or in this case free topping. He’s almost embarrassed with how fast he runs over to the bed.

“I see you’ve gotten started without me. I’m the boss remember? You have to do as I say.” He says breathlessly. He keeps playing to see if Erik’s really interested. He spreads Erik’s ass cheeks and looks at the job he’s done. The pink opening is inviting to look at and Charles can’t wait to make use of it. He pushes his pants down to free his own cock. But then he continues with their new game, “You can’t make executive decisions without me.”

“My apologies, sir.” Erik braces himself for intrusion, his whole is tight with anxiety. So Charles is careful. He’s learned two things about sex with Erik. One, Erik is a fantastic giver. He’s patient, he’s gentle, he’s rough when he’s asked to be rough. And two, Erik is ashamed of wanting to bottom. The man certainly seems to enjoy it, but he’s reticent. Erik blushes and hides his face in his arms waiting as Charles stretches him properly. He looks completely different like this, so Charles takes extra care of the man. And his ego.

“Oh god,” says Charles as he enters, “You’re so hot. So tight, Erik. You’re incredible…” He sighs as he sinks his cock all the way in and plasters himself across Erik’s back. Erik is indeed tight and his body is still taunt with nervousness. Charles rubs his hands up and down the man’s flanks to help him relax. Erik is still shaking a little. Charles realized after almost being caught by Armando that Erik doesn’t want anyone to know about this part of their relationship. But he still wants to do it and give Charles the pleasure of doing it. So Charles takes Erik’s shame and handles it carefully. Guiding the man to place where he can just think about feeling good.

Charles sits up and pulls Erik up to his knees. He pulls out his cock, believing he can wait to make sure Erik’s comfortable. He wraps a hand around Erik’s cock and starts pumping his fist until the other man starts to melt. When he re-enters Erik, he quickly seeks his own release. Letting go of Erik’s cock to hold on to his waist. Charles gets lost for moment, Erik is a quiet and still beneath him. With anyone else it would be worrisome, but Charles just slides a hand up to Erik’s neck and squeezes. Erik moans then and starts to move with Charles. Neither of them bother with touching Erik’s cock. For whatever reason, Charles finds this shy, quiet side of Erik especially attractive. He pulls out before he comes, making a mess of Erik’s thighs and the back of his legs. He sighs and falls to bed. Knowing Erik hasn’t come yet, Charles gasps and scrambles up the bed, licking his lips.

“Come here. Come here and let me finish that for you. Please, Erik. I need it.” He pleads, knowing Erik is probably wrapping his thoughts around the drying come on his leg. Hopefully, Charles’s mouth will distract from that. “Come on, Erik. Please?”

Once Erik nerves have settled back to some heteronormative safe place, the shy eyes vanish as he climbs on top of Charles. He bends over to kiss Charles quickly before pulling down Charles’s pants. It’s not what Charles planned but he goes with it. Erik traps his legs at the knees and turns Charles on his side. It’s an odd position, but where Charles is exposed, Erik palms him. His hands feel heavy while they knead and massage the meat of Charles’s thighs and for moment Charles thinks the man wants to use him that way. But Erik eventually works a finger into the tight ring of muscle, while holding Charles’s legs closed. It’s so tight Charles starts to squirm but Erik keeps him down. “Thank you.” He says quietly. He coats his fingers with the lotion before pushing in and scissoring. He crooks his fingers and opens Charles up carefully.

When Erik deems Charles ready, he pulls his fingers out and lines up with his still-hard cock. Charles moans as Erik moves slowly, dragging out his time on top. Charles holds his own knees as Erik starts thrusting. The tight fit makes them both groan and Charles is pushed to the brink of feeling uncomfortable before Erik finally frees his legs. He pulls out with a wet popping sound, his cock bobbing over Charles’s ass and dripping precum. “Fuck,” says Charles at the sight. But Erik is busy dragging the pants off his leg and tossing them out of the bed.

Erik flips Charles on his back and starts pushing in and out with surprising ease. Charles’s hands twists in the bedding beside his head. Erik must like the sight of him, his eyes centers on Charles’s chest and he leans down to suck on one nipple while his hands hold Charles. He sucks and sucks before biting hard on the sensitive nub. Charles cries out but he doesn’t want Erik to stop. The man considers him for a moment, giving Charles a chance to say no. Charles bites his own lips and whines. It’s enough permission and Erik sits up, pulling Charles into his lap. He keeps the younger man suspended off the bed for a moment before spreading him wide. A thumb or finger hooks into the hole and Charles cries out again as Erik changes the angle, barreling into Charles’s channel. The thrusts get more energetic, hitching Charles’s whole body up towards the headboard.

Erik pulls one of Charles’s legs up over his shoulder and looks into his eyes. Charles tries to keep his breathing even, hitching his hips to meet Erik with every move. His own cock is reawakening, and Erik smirks at it. It’s a running joke between them. Erik can outlast Charles for hours, but Charles is the comeback king. He pulls Erik down for a kiss that quickly devolves to just sharing breathes. They both pant into each other’s mouths as Erik gets closer to climax.

Charles has taken his own cock in hand and tries to beat Erik to another orgasm. Still, Erik seizes on top of him and Charles has to admit defeat. He laughs a little and Erik sits up.

“Don’t worry, I have you.” Erik lowers himself down Charles’s body and swallows his cock whole. He sucks and licks until Charles is a writhing mess, clutching the quilts and shaking his head. When he comes, Erik swallows and comes back up to Charles. For whatever reason, he feels zero shame about this. Instead he looks quite pleased with himself.

Charles laughs, “What were we fighting about…” He settles in as Erik pulls the quilts up around them.

The fireplace logs have stopped crackling and the room is darker now. Charles looks over his shoulder to see that Erik has fallen asleep. He smiles to himself and puts the last few weeks behind him.

* * *

 

 

Charles wakes up around midnight to the sight of Erik’s naked ass tiptoeing the floor. He smiles but doesn’t say anything. The man walks quietly over to the fireplace. It’s gotten cooler outside. Erik couldn’t just wake Charles up and say he was restarting the fire, oh no. Instead he has to sneak out like a thief in the night. Charles has to cover his mouth to keep from laughing but Erik hears him anyway.

“Go ahead, Freckles. Say you were right about the stupid fire.”

Charles says nothing at all and pretends to still be sleeping. The fire gets started and the room is washed in a soft glow again. Erik comes back to the bed quickly and hops in on his side. Something evil in the man spurs him to tuck his cold feet under Charles. “Ah!”

“Sorry, did I wake you?”

Charles turns over to look at the man. He’s grinning from ear to ear. His teeth look sharp and predatory. And Charles just wants to kiss him. So he does. And for a long moment they simply hold each other and kiss like there’s nothing else to do in the world.

Charles starts feeling sleepy again, but his cock has taken an interest in things. So has Erik’s, its thick head brushing Charles’s stomach. Erik positions them to both slide across each other, trapping their erections between their bellies as they continue to softly kiss. It’s all slow and languorous and sweet. Charles smiles when Erik gives him a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “That. That right there is why I’m in this mess. Why’d you have to be such a dick and make me lo…” He stops talking and opens his eyes. Erik is staring at him, his eyes big and hopeful. Charles can’t make himself finish the sentence. Instead he tries to pull away.

Erik reaches between them to hold both of their cocks and pulls until Charles closes his eyes again. Erik kisses him again at the corner of his mouth. “I’m sorry for everything that happened, Charles. Honestly. I’d never wanted you in harm’s way. Ever since that first night, I wanted you all for myself. It drives me mad thinking you… You won’t give up that work on the side. I could pay you more. I could give you anything. I could…” He breaks off just as Charles thinks he’s about to come. Erik’s hand slides around Charles’s waist and his fingers easily prod at Charles’s hole.

Charles wouldn’t admit to the sound he made as Erik finds his prostrate even at this angle. He throws his leg over Erik’s body and gets up to straddle the man. Erik looks up at him as they line up and Charles seats himself on the Erik’s cock.

“Charles,” whispers Erik hoarsely. “I would you give you anything you wanted if you asked me. Just tell me what it is you’re working for. What do you want, Charles?”

Charles doesn’t answer as he starts rolling his hips. He can’t take the pleading look in Erik’s eyes anymore. He leans back and lets his head fall. Erik’s hand reaches up to catch him, holding him in place as he thrusts up into Charles’s body.

Charles wraps a hand around his own cock and tugs away until he comes across Erik’s chest. He opens his eyes in time to see Erik dipping a finger in the mess and licking it up. Erik looks up at him he just did something important. Charles frowns, a strange feeling settling in his gut as Erik lays him down. He grabs Charles by the head and flips him over gently, while not breaking their connection. His cock still buried in Charles. Charles wraps his legs around Erik’s waist and the man starts slowly rolling his hips. His starts to come and pulls out, the head of cock catching the rim of Charles’s hole just before he changes his mind. He plunges back in and seizes on top of Charles. They’re plastered together and Charles doesn’t mind for now, his eyes closed as he feels full and stretched and good.

When Erik finishes he kisses Charles on the neck and the corner of his mouth again.

Charles feels overwhelmed with feelings he doesn’t want to name right now. Feelings Erik has plainly written on his face. Charles turns his head away but Erik sits up. He takes hold of Charles’s hands. “I told you to stop biting your nails. I told you it doesn’t look very academic.”

Charles remembers but he can’t focus on anything. Erik lays beside him and pulls off the gold ring on his own pinkie. For a moment Charles stops breathing and Erik gives him a wide smile. He kisses the tips of Charles’s fingers before sliding the ring down on Charles’s finger.

The stupid thing, thinks Charles. It’s a perfect fit.

Erik spares him anymore talk and they just lie there, looking into each others eyes before Charles finally goes to sleep.

* * *

 

In the morning, Charles wakes up with a shotgun in his face.

He stares at it with bug-eyes before shaking his so-called protector. “Erik. Erik!”

Erik sits up and looks at the shotgun. The man holding it is large and hairy, with muscles on top of his muscles. Erik however, doesn’t seem to care. “Fuck off, Logan.” He lays back down, snuggling his face in the space under Charles’s neck.

Charles is trying not to panic. He’s heard of the caretaker. But he’s afraid the man didn’t actually invite them in. What if they’re trespassing or something? He looks like the sort of man who would be territorial. The man rolls his eyes and tucks his gun under his arm, “I said no fucking in my bed, Lehnsherr. Can’t you follow simple instructions? And you,” he points at Charles, “Stop shaving in my tub. You’ll clog my pipes.”

The strange, terrifying man stomps away to the front door and slams it shut.

Charles is left staring and hyperventilating. “Erik? What the hell was that?”

“I told you,” says Erik as he kisses Charles on the back of the neck. “He doesn’t like the house. We kind of put him out of place. He’s been sleeping in a tent. I may have promised him we wouldn’t fuck in here while he was gone.” Erik sits up and stretches before getting out of the bed and padding across to the bathroom. He peaks back around to Charles, “My bad.”

They both get up and get dressed for the day. They don’t talk about the ring but Charles sits up for a moment staring at it in wonder before he moves. He doesn’t want Erik to catch him being moved by his silly gesture. The man already suffers from excess of confidence. The last he needs is to think he’s finally swept Charles off his feet.

Erik hands Charles a bag of new clothes from the city. Spring is slow to warm things up, so Charles is given a new coat and a pair of gloves, too. Once dressed, they go outside where Erik’s entourage is waiting with two cars. The SUV they escaped in and Erik’s beloved BMW.

Angel and Armando are speaking quietly as Azazel waves two women from the house toward the SUV. Erik touches his arm, “Azazel taking some girls back to the hotel. But your friend still needs to recover. Hank says he’ll need at least three months to get well.”

That’s not want Charles wanted to hear, but he nods. “Alright. But can we come back for him when he’s better? Please?”

Erik’s face closes off and he doesn’t answer. Instead he moves on to talk business with the girls climbing in the SUV. Charles is left unsatisfied so he turns to others.

There’s a new face with Armando. Charles smiles and waves but the man glares at him in return. Charles tries his luck with greeting Armando. They’ve been good friends up to this point. Surely, he wasn’t demoted like Angel. So Charles tries giving him a friendly smile. Armando pretends not to see him. Charles frowns, feeling insulted when he’s ignored. He then tries speaking instead. “Long time, no see.” He looks at the new man. “Is Sean still recuperating.”

Armando frowns at Charles and looks at Erik, “He didn’t… no. Of course not. This is Alex. Alex, this is _Simon_.”

Charles tries smiling at the man again, but they’re all giving him the cold shoulder now. They start to pile into the cars but Charles holds his ground. He clears his throat for attention. Erik stops talking to Azazel to walk over and see what’s wrong. Charles pats himself and looks down at his feet, “Did I walk in dog shit or something. Is there something on my face? What’s wrong with everyone?”

“You little,” starts Angel but Erik raises a hand and silences her.

Charles looks between them confused, “Honestly what’s gotten into all of you. Erik?”

Erik pinches the ridge between his forehead, “Its nothing, Charles. Just get in the car.”

“It’s Sean,” says Armando. Charles whips around to see the man has tears in his eyes. “Sean was… Sean didn’t work out and had to be taken care of….”

Charles looks back at Erik, “What did you do?” The day he was taken playing back in his head. The crying on the phone. Erik screaming in German. “What happened to Sean?”

Erik grabs Charles by the elbow and drags him to the car. He opens the door and pushes Charles along until he gets inside. Before he slams the door he looks back his people and points a finger at Angel. “You drive.”

She gives Charles another dirty look before going around to the front of the car. Charles sits back, his hands shaking after that little display. Normally he’d fight back, but he feels sick to his stomach. “Erik, please. What happened to Sean?” The crying on the phone is playing on repeat in his head.

Erik sits in the car beside him and slams his door. He doesn’t look at Charles as they pull off. “It’s like the man said. He was taken care of.”

Charles covers his mouth with his hand and sobs, “He was just a kid.”

“No one who works for me is a kid, Charles. He was a trained killer. He _killed_ people for me. He knew better. He could have kept you safe that day. But he didn’t. He failed me. And now he’s gone.”

“Gone where,” cries Charles. He barely knew the boy, but he liked Sean. “Does his family know? He has seven brothers and sisters, you know. He was their only provider…”

“They’ll be fine. He had enough stashed away. There’s no severance package for betraying my trust, Charles. I’m not adopting a bunch freckled-face orphans.” He keeps his head turn, biting his words off cruelly and breaking Charles’s heart. Charles looks at his reflection in the car window, his own freckles faint on his nose and cheeks. He feels like pulling his hair out.

All the time Charles spent on the streets, he’s never seen something like this. He cries harder, “You can’t just say something like that. You have to take care of them…”

“Fuck them, Charles.” He looks at Charles like he’s said something stupid. His face is full of derision, pitiless anger. “They can all go out and get jobs. I’m not the Salvation fucking Army. And stop crying, Charles. You didn’t even know the brats.”

Charles sobs some more, trying to control himself. Erik’s right, he thinks. But Charles feels guilty for the incident. “If I hadn’t insisted on going home… if I had just stayed put until you guys came back, none of that would have happened.” He tries to get Erik to look at him, reaching out to touch his hand on the seat.

Erik pulls away and keeps his eyes forward. “That’s enough, Charles. I don’t want to discuss this anymore. What I do with my people is my business.” His eyes slide to Charles finally, but the glare he gives him is cold. “And we both keep to our own business don’t we?”

Charles huffs, “Fine.” He wipes his face with the sleeve of his expensive coat before turning away, “That’s just fine.”

The ride back into the city is quiet and tense. Erik takes out his phone and does whatever he does while Charles thinks about the baby pictures Sean was all too proud to share with him.

They’re halfway home when Charles thinks of a solution. “Ororo says you give her kids all the time. What about…”

Erik laughs, a harsh sounding bark. He keeps his eyes on his phone, “I give her the used up ones. Kids turned on the streets when they’re little and find themselves in my territory. Affecting my profits. I give her the competition, Charles. She chooses to keep them and coddle them until they’re actually old enough for work. How old are you, Charles? I keep asking and you don’t say. Should I have left you there?” He finally looks up with a mean look in his eyes, “You’re crying like a baby over some strangers. I’m starting to think you’re actually a kid yourself.”

Charles lashes out but Erik catches his hand pushes him back to his side of the car. Charles tries to control his emotions. He feels his face turning red. Erik has never tried to hurt him, not really. Charles doesn’t doubt the man is capable but he thinks he could hold his own. It’s the people in the front seat he’s worried about.

Angel looks at him in the rearview mirror and Darwin’s hands are free up there to point a gun at Charles, if need be. Charles doubts he’s match for a car full of professional killers so he crosses his arms and pouts. The need to hurt Erik still under his skin. He slides off the ring Erik gave him and rolls down the window. The man looks up just as Charles throws it away.

Charles sits back and crosses his arms again, feeling satisfied.

Erik is a quiet mass beside him. Rage incarnate probably, but Charles couldn’t care less.

They make it all the way back to the hotel where Darwin and Erik gets out. Erik slams his door. He doesn’t look back at Charles while he marches on to handle his shady dealings in his swanky hotel. Charles wipes his face before any tears can fall and calls out to Angel. “Can you take me home please. I don’t want to stay here tonight.”

Angel looks back at him. Her face cracking from the angry masks she’s worn in the last few weeks. “You really didn’t know about Sean, huh?”

Charles shakes his head, “I thought he was alright. Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

Angel starts the car but doesn’t answer. Her phone starts chiming but she ignores it. “Tell me something, Professor. How much more cash do you need? Armando says its looks like you saved about one hundred and sixty thousand already. What the hell are you planning on? Buying an island?”

Charles can’t tell anyone about that. And if he can’t tell Erik, he has no place telling one of his henchmen. “It’s my money. I’ll do what I want with it.”

Angel shrugs, “Yeah I get that. But Prince Charming would buy you anything you wanted. He bought you that apartment and the stupid bookstore. He made up that con just for you.” She looks up at Charles through the mirror his heart sinks.

“That’s no surprise,” he lies. “Not at all.” Of course, he reasons. A drug dealing, whore mongering, gun running, mob boss didn’t plan to go into antiquities. He made it all up the night he met Charles. Charles can’t decide if it’s a sweet gesture or completely insane.

Angel continues, “It wasn’t the best use of his assets, that’s for sure. He was wasting all that time for a job that required way to much setup. All that time I spent protecting you, heh.” She turns her head to look Charles in the eye. “And I told him you could take care of yourself. You had your own thing going on. You don’t need to be a kept pet. I know I wouldn’t stand for that shit.”

Charles looks away, not wanting to agree with her out loud. It wouldn’t be fair to Erik. But it’s true. And Charles sniffles a little, feeling weepy again with the revelation. “I’m not his pet. I’m not his anything. I came on for a job and that’s over with now.” He looks out the window and doesn’t think of the ring he tossed. “I just want to go home.”

“I hear ya, kid.” She nods as she parks in front his new apartment. “Alex will already be in there.” She checks her phone. “All clear. You can go on up on your own, Professor. I’ve got some business to handle. Would you mind not telling Erik?” She turns to look him in the eye again.

Whatever she’s asking for is against Erik’s wishes. Charles knows the man told her to stay by his side, but it’s like she said. Erik is wasting his own assets, crushing on a whore. Charles lets out a shaking breath, and betrays Erik in the next instant. “Go on. Do whatever you have to do. I’ll tell Erik I don’t want to see him for a while.”

She gives him a cute smile, the first he’s seen of its kind, and gets out to open his door.

Charles steps out and takes her hand when its offered. They shake on a strange agreement and Charles goes back to his apartment, wondering what he signed away.

Alex is in the lobby of the building and escorts Charles all the way up to his floor. Erik spent a great deal to cement his cover as Simon Ludlow and the name ‘Ludlow’ marks his door in gold lettering. Charles goes inside and offers Alex a drink. The man declines, and informs Charles that he’ll be in the building, keeping an eye on the place from elsewhere. Charles shrugs and lets him, knowing another little apartment downstairs is leased for Armando and Angel.

After taking a long bath and dressing up in a light blue robe, he settles in his living room. Its full of books and bookshelves, but Erik’s bought a massive TV that dominates one entire wall. Charles sits in front of it, turning it on just for the background noise.

_**“… the suspected shooters have been apprehended.”** _

Charles starts to flip through the channels but comes back to the 24/7 news station. He looks at the reporter standing outside of Erik’s hotel and gasps.

**_“… the notorious crime boss known as the German was attacked in this lobby. While his condition is unknown, several bystanders were injured. We’ll have more as the story continues to develop.”_ **

The reporter is replaced with a split-screen panel of talking heads. One man calls Erik a known delinquent who deserves death. Another cites Erik’s front businesses, his charity work. **“ _This man is innocent until proven guilty. All we know for sure is he owns several properties, including Hotel Allure, several eateries and even a bookstore. There’s nothing connecting him with any crimes!”_**

Charles sinks to floor, the remote still in his hand. He thinks about Angel and her strange deal. “Oh god,” he whispers to himself, “Did I do this?”

He gets off the floor and finds a phone in the kitchen. He calls Armando and gets no answer.

The television drones on about the attack at Erik’s hotel.

**_“The German is being treated now for several gunshots wounds…”_ **

**_“Let’s not do that, Angela. Just because the man’s a foreigner. He has a name. Max Eisenhardt is a hardworking entrepreneur…”_ **

Charles breaks down and cries in the kitchen as he realizes, he doesn’t even know Erik’s real name. No, he corrects himself. _They_ don’t know Erik’s real name. He gets up and tries calling Angel. He’s halfway through dialing her number when her mugshot appears on the screen.

 _“ **An associate of the German is being questioned by the police.”**_ The picture is old, she appears to be even younger, holding her plate with one hand while pointing a middle finger at the photographer.

Charles’s head is pounding. It wasn’t even twelve hours ago that he may have accepted a marriage proposal. Now he doesn’t know what he’ll do.   He turns off the TV and checks the doors and windows. If Erik is going to jail or going to die, then it may be open season on his property. And property includes his personal plaything. Charles thinks about barricading himself in the apartment or leaving the city all together. Angel’s right, he thinks. He can take care of himself. He has more than enough to resettle somewhere else. He doesn’t even have to start working again. If he uses the money right, he could live quite comfortably for some time.

He goes to his room and lays down. His big, fluffy bed brings back memories of Erik. Waking up here to Erik’s smile and hands and mouth. “How could I be so stupid,” he cries. He turns on his back, and feels the phantom hands rubbing soothing circles on his back. He sits up, knowing no one’s there and looks at his nightstand. The oldest book he owns, the one thing that survived from his original belongings… a copy of The Once and Future King. He gets the book and tucks it in by his chest as he settles in the bed.

This book survived despite things being stolen out his first bag, soaked through with rain, and stomped on by predators like Gregorivich. Charles thinks of it as a talisman now. He thinks of it as symbol of his resilience. He’ll survive the mess Erik and his people dragged him into. And he’ll go home. Someday, he will go home.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to post this on Thursday but, well itus. Then Friday and more itus. Saturday and well, honestly I'm posting now while eating a turkey sandwich. I'm trying to get ahead of it this time.


	4. Cat On A Hot Tin Roof

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little break from the action-y bits.

Ten months ago, Erik fucked Charles against a hotel window. They laughed at the scene below, watched as guests came and went while Charles was pressed up against the glass. Erik had assured him it was safe, the glass wouldn’t give out from a little pounding and thumping. It was insane and scary, but Charles trusted him. He trusted the man with his life as he was lifted off his feet and his naked back was pressed against the only barrier between him and two-hundred-foot drop.

That next morning, Charles signed the very professional looking contracts and accepted his new identity. He was now Simon Ludlow, doctor of Anthropology and Archaeology. They argued before he signed away his right to have sex with his gorgeous new bodyguards. Angel had almost ruined their whole relationship that day by wearing a well-fitted suit and bright yellow tie. If Erik weren’t such a dedicated cocksucker, nothing else would have been signed that day. Charles then agreed to accept his payments as monthly bank deposits, rent, and protection.

The next night Erik gave Charles a tour of his new home. They fucked against the front door. They fucked in the kitchen. They fucked in the office. They fucked in almost every corner of the spacious two-bedroom spread. They fucked in both beds but Charles forbid Erik from going back into the guestroom. He did his best after that to convince Erik to let Remy move in. Even trying Erik’s tactic of distracted document signing. But his best wasn’t good enough. Erik held fast that a junkie would always find a way to steal the TV. Even an eighty-five-inch flat screen.

Charles thinks about how high he was on life at the very beginning with Erik. Thinking everything was finally looking up for him. He poured himself into really working on each of their cons. Charles was a studious child in his former life. He applied that interest now in his research and Erik rewarded his hard work with more mind-blowing sex. Some of the artifacts were genuine and Charles sold them easily. But some things, like the Cerberus Kylix, were just rubbish thrown out by ancient party goers with no apparent ties to famous or noteworthy names. Charles didn’t mind the lying.

On the contrary, he reveled in pretending he was an expert in anything. He loved dipping his toes back in the world he was born to, but cast out of by monsters. Every mark was the kind of person Charles despised most. The kind of people who would buy a boy and put him on a collar. Nouveau riche or Old Money. They were all overstuffed with ego, and embarrassingly stupid. The kind of people that let greed and pride drive the economy into disaster. Criminals, politicians, other mobsters like Erik, but not like Erik. Charles relished in whatever success they had. And Erik doted on him. Erik listened. Erik smelled so good sometimes Charles couldn’t keep his hands to himself. Erik would talk and play and laugh with him. Erik sated Charles’s want for companionship for the first time in years. Erik was safe. Charles spent ten months, almost truly unafraid.

But that’s gone now.

* * *

 

Charles lets his fear spur him into being hyper-vigilant at first. He arms himself with a butcher knife and hides in his room for a long time. It takes a while for him calm down and remember Erik’s security precautions. Cameras, guards, and real weapons stashed away for Charles to use. Still, he doesn’t answer the door when Alex comes up to check on him an hour after the shooting. Charles tells the kid to get lost. He’s not ready to see anyone. Alex agrees to leave him alone after reporting on the condition of Erik and the others.

“Lehnsherr is still unconscious.” He raises his voice through the door, “He wasn’t wearing body armor and he took five shots to his middle. Angel is still being held by the police. All we know for sure is she disappeared and there was a gun on the roof across the street. Armando is still trying to straighten it all out. He told me not to leave my post with you. If you don’t want me in there… I need you to stay away from the windows. Don’t open this door for anyone but me. And… you got something to eat in there?”

Charles sighs and backs away from his door. He goes in the kitchen and fetches a bottle of clear liquor. Grabbing a glass, he walks past the front door.   He doesn’t hear whatever else Alex says, instead he retreats to his room and covers up in the bed.

* * *

 

When he wakes up, Charles feels terrible. His head pounds and his tongue feels carpeted in funk. He can’t be bothered to change out of his robe or shower or even brush his teeth. He rolls over and pulls a pillow on his head. It smells a little like Erik’s aftershave and he dozes after a few moments of breathing it in.

He doesn’t know what time it is later when he truly wakes up to pounding. Pounding and Slavic cursing.

“Azazel.” Charles winces as he sits up, knocking the bottle over in the bed. He sighs but ignores the mess and finally gets up.

He doesn’t bother going to the door this time. Erik’s security includes several hidden cameras. He turns on the TV and goes to the CC channel feed of his rooms and the hallway. On the screen, Azazel looks completely different. His long black hair has been cut and dyed red. He’s clean shaven and wearing a sweater vest. He looks like a dad on a Christmas card. Charles grimaces and backs away from the larger than life image on his screen. He covers and uncovers his eyes but he can’t unsee it.

Charles sits on the floor in front of the TV. There’s a microphone in the remote to an intercom outside. He remembers thinking Erik was just showing off when he had it installed. Now, he presses it thankful he didn’t have to open the door to this. “Az? Is that you?”

The man huffs and points his middle finger at the camera down the hall, “Open the door, little rabbit. Boss man wants to see you today. We must make sure you get there safely.”

Charles doesn’t move from the floor. Instead he lays down and curls up in front of his massive television. “Go away, Az. I’m not feeling well. My boyfriend got shot to pieces yesterday.”

It’s the first time he’s said something like that out loud. Azazel shuffles around outside the door, “But he is okay! At least he will be. We are saying he’s in a coma to keep the press and police quiet. But really, he’s okay. Come on, he wants to see you, little rabbit. We have to hurry. We have the hospital cleared of press and we don’t want anyone to see you there.”

No, thinks Charles. He doesn’t want anyone to see him there either. The very last thing he needs is notoriety. His old demons might come crawling across the country just to haunt him. “I can’t, Az. I can’t go. Tell Erik… Tell Erik I’m sorry I threw his ring out. I was mad and I didn’t mean it. Just tell him not to die but I can’t… I can’t come see him now.” He turns off the TV instead of waiting for a reply.

Charles stays on his floor, thinking he’ll spend a few more days hiding out in his apartment before he makes his plans to move on. He’ll get his computer and find a new place, then drive up to the Heart of Gold and fetch poor Remy. They can be roommates and everything will be fine. His life will be fine without Erik Lehnsherr.

Charles is shocked to be kicked in the side, gently but insistently. He looks up to where the devil himself is standing over him and gapes at Azazel. Azazel rolls his eyes. He bends down to pick Charles up, “Do you think I don’t have a key to this place? Come and get dressed and – woo! Get _washed_ , then get dressed. You’re expected.”

Charles yanks away and tries to get closer to floor. “Leave me alone, Azazel! I’m trying to mourn here! Just go away! I’m not going to any fucking hospital!” For all of Erik’s electronic locking, Charles is disturbed with how easy it was the man to get in. He’ll call Alex up later with a real lock and electric screwdriver. Charles knows a lot about fortifying his own space. Azazel keeps trying to lift Charles off the floor but Charles flops, like a kid throwing a tantrum.

“Fine!” Azazel stops trying to lift Charles’s dead weight. Before now he didn’t appreciate how solid the smaller man was. He backs away to catch his breath. “I warn you though. If you don’t come to him, he comes to you.”

Charles opts to crawl away, hoping to keep out of reach should the man try to force him to get decent again. He heads for his bedroom, but Azazel cuts him off so he turns around. He comes to his office door and sits down, back against it and legs stretched out.

Azazel goes in the bedroom and rummages through Charles’s belongings. He calls out while slamming drawers, “Don’t you have something somber and sexy to wear for a time like this!”

Charles shakes his head and sends unruly hair flopping about his face. Charles decides this part of the carpet would be fine place to lay down. “Would a Kevlar vest count?” He closes his eyes and imagines Erik, healthy and gorgeous and terrifying to other people. “It’s all my fault, you know. I got Erik shot. I let Angel leave when she was supposed to be here, babysitting my great big ass.”

Azazel comes out of the room with a pair of Charles’s pants in his hands. He holds them at the waistbands and flaps them out, “Not so big an ass, little rabbit.” He smirks at Charles and its oddly comforting. Given he had so much trouble lifting Charles a moment ago. Perhaps it helps that his scarred face is less gruesome without the jet black hair and villainous goatee. “Besides you didn’t kill Erik. And he is not in a coma. He is wide awake and barking mad. And he wants to see you. Now come on.”

“But Angel,” whines Charles. “She and I… I didn’t know what I was doing…”

“You still don’t know what you’re doing,” Azazel rolls his eyes. “Erik and I were attacked not five whole minutes after you left. We had just gone back outside when the shooter fired on us. Angel was still in car driving you, yes? You live almost fifteen minutes away.”

Charles sits up and clutches his robe. His eyes filling with tears, “You mean I didn’t kill Erik?”

“I already told you! He’s not dead!”

Charles gets up and quickly runs over to Azazel, almost knocking them both over. He sobs into Azazel’s sweater, “He’s not dead!”.

“You…” Drawls out Azazel, pushing Charles away with one arm. “Smell to high heaven. Get washed and dressed. We are going to the hospital. Now.”

Charles sniffles and goes to his couch. Azazel throws his arms up in exasperation so Charles tries to explain. “If even one of those cameras post my picture, Az, I’m dead. It’s not… I can’t be seen there. I’ll just have to wait for him to get better. Tell him to call me.”

“No!” Answers Azazel as he throws Charles’s pants on the floor. He steps on them and marches towards the door. “I’m tired of you two with your sex and your crying! You stay here if you want and I’ll bring the great baby to you!” He storms out and slams the door leaving Charles on the couch with a headache and more questions.

Charles turns the news back on, one conservative channel is still reporting about the incident. The same pundit that was defending Erik in the first broadcast is back on, **_“He has always been a good role model for other immigrants in the city. Being the heir of a business family that once peddled goods during prohibition and now…”_**

“Rum smuggler to gun smuggler,” smiles Charles. The man makes light of whatever charges the other pundits throw and Charles wonders what Erik did to make this man so starry-eyed. Perhaps he’s an ex-lover? The thought crawls under Charles’s skin and he turns off the TV again. He looks down at his hands, feeling like a churning mess. It’s funny, he thinks, but he hasn’t bitten his nails today. They’re jagged, stumpy-looking points on the end of his fingers. And one finger feels strangely cold, like that stupid ring became a part of him in such a short time.

Charles was never an impulsive child. He used plan out everything, from how he would play in a sandbox to what toys worked best for bath time. And he was never a mean child before he ran away, either. He always had a talent for empathizing with others. Since he ran he away he had to give up seeing through other’s eyes. He found out early that having a big heart just made him a bigger target. Being hopeful made the fall to his knees even harder. Now he’s just like any other hoodlum, he thinks. Reckless, rudderless, and ruthless. And since he’s been Erik’s kept boy… and how he hates to think of himself as such. But honestly what else could he have been?

Since he’s been Erik’s boy, he’s been spoiled. Completely rotten.

Charles flops over and decides that laying around for a few more hours will help. He’ll get up eventually, he tells himself, and go save Remy and escape the city for good. Leaving Erik and his mob mess behind.

Charles is surprised that no one bothers him for the rest of the day. He takes another nap and wakes up ready to do something. He starts with washing and brushing his teeth. Dressing in a pair of expensive jeans and a button down shirt. He wants to look important where’s he going. He goes to his little office, a small room with a big oak desk. One large window is covered by two bookcases. He had to argue with Erik about their placement. Now he deems it a safe place to sit and research new living quarters on his computer. He quickly finds a place in Rhode Island. A small houseboat of all things. Charles ‘hmms’ at the screen before making an offer for the furnished home. He then goes back to the living room, intent on calling a cab.

Charles moves with purpose planning to escape the building quickly, but he’s already wasted too much time.

The front door opens and Azazel breezes in, dragging Hank McCoy behind him. “Set him up, Doc.”

Hank is pushing a wheelchair, and in it is a man wrapped up like a mummy from head to toe. Charles can guess who the man is, and is torn between being relieved and angry.

“Erik…” Charles hopes he’s being subtle. Inching towards the three suitcases he has piled up near the door. He knows he’s caught when Azazel follows his line of sight. He looks down and starts muttering under his breath. The loyal henchman calmly gathers the cases and takes them back into the bedroom.

Charles is left staring at Erik as Hank, Armando and Alex bring in things. Erik is quiet and still but Hank buzzes around, resetting an IV drip, grabbing his black bag from the hallway, repositioning the chair. Charles just stands around being useless and hoping Erik is unconscious. Perhaps then he could still escape and carry on with his plans.

Azazel returns and marches over to Charles. “Go back to your room, little rabbit.” He narrows his eyes and grabs Charles by the arm. Charles struggles to stay upright as he’s pushed back, “We have some Tall Talk and you are too small and dainty for it. Stay put. Or I will break both of your legs.” He pushes until Charles stumbles into his room and slams the door.

Charles lands on the floor and gets up, half ready to fight as usual. But there’s shouting on the other side of the door. Charles presses his ear up against it and listens.

Erik’s voice is muffled, loud, but straining. “Let him be, Azazel. He’s just scared.”

“He’s a cowardly, little shit.”

“Azazel!” Erik coughs, “That’s enough. You understand?”

Charles can barely understand the mixed English Azazel half-speaks with _in person_. It’s worse through the door.   “…And that cat was too hot for you!”

Charles frowns not understanding anything they say after that. He backs away from the door. Sitting down and accessing his options is all that he can do now. For one thing, Erik doesn’t seem angry at him. Or at least he’s not going ‘take care of’ Charles. Not like he did Sean. And poor Sean… Charles sighs thinking that it’s just his luck that the first person he’s cared about in years is also a murderous bastard. Thing two, Charles thinks as he imagines a neat list in his mind. Thing two, is the problem of Erik’s henchmen. The ones that are loyal and otherwise are noted in his mind. So who shot Erik? Who shot him and got away with it? Thing three is Remy. Whatever happens, Charles wants to get back to his friend before Ororo seduces him with her healthcare plan and sprawling estate.

There’s probably more things to consider. Like how will he manage on a houseboat with a recovering heroin addict, but Azazel calls out from the other room.

Charles opens the door and sees Armando and Alex have helped the doctor bring in medical equipment. Charles gets out of the way as they take over his room, turning it into a hospital room. His bed is dismantled to make room for Erik’s oversized, mechanical eyesore. His dressers are moved to make room for a set of consoles and monitors. Oxygen tanks and a defibrillator. Erik is wheeled in and set up quickly. He’s unwrapped from his incognito bandages but re-wrapped soon enough.

Azazel comes over to clap Charles hard on the shoulder, “I have business to take care, little rabbit. You and the skinny doctor are going to take care of my brother here.” He walks over to Erik and kisses him on the forehead. He looks between Hank and Charles with a threatening glare, “And if you don’t I will break…”

“Both my legs. I remember.”

“Good.” Azazel and the others hitmen leave. Charles is sure the bodyguards haven’t strayed too far, but Azazel and Armando are probably running Erik’s syndicate.

Hank fusses over a chart as he adjusts a drip of fluid, “Don’t worry. He’ll make a full recovery from this.”

Charles nods. “And Remy? Who’s taking care of him back there?”

“My assistant, Anna Marie. Trust me, Simon. He’s in very good hands.”

Hank starts working away and Charles suddenly can’t stand the thought of having someone call him Simon in his own home. “It’s Charles, actually.” He corrects. “And thank you. Thank you for all of this.”

Hank barely looks up from where he’s scribbling on a notepad, “Don’t mention it, um… Charles. I’m just doing my job. It’s that or get my legs broken.” He looks up to give Charles a clipped smile before going back to work.

Charles spends the day avoiding his bedroom and the night sleeping on the couch. Hank bustles back and forth. Charles sees him a take a nap at one point, but the man is like a machine. He diligently sees to Erik’s care while Charles avoids the room and facing Erik.

 

* * *

 

A week later and little has changed in Erik’s condition. Erik spends most of his time sleeping off pain meds. Hank is quiet and hardworking. Charles has taken to preparing meals for the both of them. He avoids watching TV, leaving it set to the cameras outside. Hank never bothers it. He minds his own business as Charles shuffles from the living room, the guest room and his office.

Then that Saturday, after Charles has started making dinner, Hank comes in the kitchen with a pinched face. “I’m taking a few days off. My business partner is going to relieve me. He’ll be here by eight o’clock. Erik is stabilized and mending well. I’ll just…” He says swaying on his feet, “I’ll just take a little nap until then.”

Charles nods, “Let me just fix you a plate. You can’t be starving _and_ sleep deprived when you get home.” He offers a smile and Hank blushes before ducking his head and moving to the couch. Charles shakes his head and wonders for the hundredth time since meeting McCoy if the man’s a virgin.

They eat together in quiet and, as promised, Hank lays down to nap in the living room.

Charles cleans up his kitchen and tries to ignore the way his heart is beating in his chest. It’s been acting up every night since Erik arrived. He’s prepares Erik’s bland dinner while replaying Hank’s words in his head. Erik had a very near death experience. Three shots almost took out his lungs and two shots dissected his bowels. His heart wasn’t damaged, but his injuries came with so many other complications. Erik will recover but he may never be the same. Charles can’t quite imagine it. Erik forever in wheelchair. Forever living with any kind of disability. Shitting in a colostomy bag, using a cane, or being fed like this…

Charles has avoided conversations with Erik. He started sleeping in the guest room to stay out of the way. He’s popped in to change his clothes or fetch things from his bathroom. Up till now he’s passed along Erik’s food through Hank. Or he’s left it on the beside tray when Erik was asleep. He feels like a yellow stripe has been painted down his back, like in an old cartoon. Charles gathers his nerves and the tray and goes to his bedroom.

There, Erik sits upright. He’s wide awake and reading Charles’s copy of The Once and Future King. He looks up when Charles comes to the door and doesn’t say anything. Charles can’t stand the way he looks. Jaundiced, almost green around the eyes. Various kinds of tubing extend to the machinery behind the bed. His oxygen, his catheters. He sits there with bits of plastic piped to his nose and Charles hates the sight of him. Erik looks weak. And vulnerable. Nothing like the protector he promised to be. Charles can’t stand to look at him. Charles feels guilty, despite what Azazel told him. It was only for a moment, but he threw away Erik’s love and right after that, all of this misfortune fell on them. Its illogical, but Charles can’t help but feel like this is all his fault.

He walks over quickly and leaves the plate on the tray, and tries to leave quietly.

“Stop,” says Erik. “Come here and sit down.”

Charles turns around slowly. “I can’t right now…”

“Charles.” Erik sighs and pushes away the food. “Come here. Let me look at you a moment. You’ve been in and out. I’ve missed you.”

Charles looks away from Erik’s eyes. They’re all too knowing, just like when they first met. But they’re also cold and calculating. He’s measuring Charles. Testing his reaction now and Charles would hate to fail him for some reason. So he sits.

“Today, I’m the boss.” Erik smiles, and Charles notices he has sores around his mouth. Probably from being intubated at the hospital. Charles looks away again, avoiding eye contact but Erik touches his hand. Charles looks up and Erik’s smile falls away. Without any humor he says, “Take off your shirt.”

Charles frowns, “Erik?”

“Take off your shirt and lay down beside me.”

“You can’t… we can’t _do_ anything. You’ll die!”

Erik barks out a hoarse laugh. He whizzes and coughs but the laughter continues for several long seconds. Charles turns red while Erik calms down. His eyes water while sighs at the end. “Thanks for that. It hurts like hell to laugh so hard.”

“Shut up, Erik.”

Erik starts up again, but winces. His hands fly to his abdomen and he sits back on his pillow. “Okay,” he says with his eyes closed tight. “I’m fine but I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t say anything stupid for a little while. Just do as I say, Charles.” He keeps his eyes closed but reaches out.

Charles sighs, his face still hot with embarrassment. He goes along with Erik’s wishes and strips before laying down. The infirmary bed is queen-sized. There’s more than enough room for Charles to lay down. He tries to keep away from the tangle of cords and hoses. His body is rigid as he lays there, completely uncomfortable. Erik smells. Like antiseptics and sweaty linen. Pungent and just so unlike his strong, healthy Erik.

Erik is so quiet and still that Charles thinks he’s gone to sleep. He starts to sit up and move away but a cold hand lands on his arm. “Stay put. Just sit here. And listen to me.” He takes a deep breath, his hand sliding down to take Charles by the hand. Their fingers intertwine and the tight look around Erik’s eyes softens. He starts, “When I was little, my grandfather was shot and killed by his right hand man. That man was beaten to death by my uncle. Old Nana retired, and my father took over. But he never had the stomach for the family business.”

Charles knows some of this story. Late at night in Erik’s arms, Erik would start sharing. Looking at Charles at the end, hoping for some truth to be shared. Charles rarely let anything slip but he absorbed everything he could about Erik.

Erik continues, “He and my mother made it easy… They were killed when I was twelve. My grandmother got scared after that. It was so strange… she’d always been harder than iron. She sent me and my little cousin to live with Ororo’s mother for a while. My uncle took over and he cleaned house of the traitors and backstabbers. The family business was finally clean and flourishing again. But then, he died a few years ago, you know. Cancer took him out without any warning. So I inherited this mess. The crime and the smuggling. The front businesses. The people. The heirlooms of our violent past.”

Charles squeezes Erik’s hand thinking of the ring, “The whores?”

“The whores, too.” Erik opens his eyes and turns his head. Charles looks him in the eye while the man comes closer. Erik gives him a quick kiss to the forehead. “Fingers in pies, remember?” He backs away and raises an eyebrow, “Although I never dealt much with that particular pie. Azazel is that man, you know. His girls and boys are very well-trained but I never cared much for their acting.”

“Am I good actor?” Charles snuggles closer. He feels like he’s getting used to the smell. Underneath it all is Erik. Erik is still here, he tells himself. Erik is alive.

“You? You are… at least committed to the lie. The lie you wear for everyone just to survive, I imagine. You made me think you might love me, Charles. And then you hurt me in the worst way.”

“I’m sorry,” starts Charles but Erik hushes him.

“Don’t. Don’t apologize. I shouldn’t have lied to you. We should always tell each other the truth.”

Charles nods. This is strangely comforting. Just opening up to Erik and being by his side again. “Yes, we should. I didn’t mean it, Erik. I swear if I’d been thinking straight- Oh god! I know how important that ring was to you.”

Erik’s hand pulls their arms up and he kisses the knuckles of Charles’s hand. “It’s okay, Charles. It was only a reminder. My grandmother pawned that ring to buy a gun. She used that gun to hunt down the men who killed her family in Germany. When she came home, she gave the gun to my grandfather and told him what she was. That she would kill anyone to protect her family. To avenge her family. He simply presented her with a new ring and a lucrative business offer.”   He smiles, “Poor Old Papa. He believed in romantic gestures.”

Charles smiles, “Like setting up fake business just to get laid?” He head-butts Erik a little. “Angel told me about the bookstore, Erik.”

“Well, you shouldn’t be surprised. I come from a long line of people willing to do anything for what they want. And I wanted you, then.”

Charles’s face falls, “Wanted?” He sits up straighter and looks on at Erik feeling scared. “As in past tense?”

“We all change,” says Erik solemnly. He kisses the knuckles. “We evolve over time. We have to, in order to survive. You have, haven’t you? Turned into the thing you are out of necessity? You didn’t want to be a whore or a liar or a thief? I can hear it in your voice. I see it in the way you walk. You were meant for better things, Charles. A harsh life has left a callous on you, but I intend to rub it out. You will be polished until you can’t remember any this.”

Charles tries to pull away but Erik’s grip is too strong. Perhaps he is not as weak as he looks. Charles’s heart starts pounding again, “And why would I let you do that, Erik?” He yanks again but still can’t free himself.

“Because,” says Erik with a quiet voice. “I’ll give you another ring. And a gun. And all the money in the fucking world. I’ll let you get whatever it is you’re chasing Charles Xavier. All you have to do is take my name.” He smiles. “And half of what I own is yours. Control of my dirty little empire.”

Charles scoffs finally freeing his hand. He gets up and moves from the bed. He almost knocks down the tray in his hurry. “You can’t mean that Erik. You want to get married? For what? To prove something?”

Erik’s jaw hardens, “No. I have nothing to prove. I have something to protect.” He looks at his gut and gestures to his wounds, “I have people counting on my strength. My cousin Magda and her children. My grandmother. All of them are already in jeopardy. I need you in case something happens to me. With this shooting shining a light on my family, there’s a very real possibility I may go to prison.”

Charles narrows his eyes and crosses his arms over his naked chest. “And you want to make sure I can give you conjugal visits?” He turns his back before Erik can answer. “This is absurd! There’s not a single reason I should agree to this!”

Erik sighs, “There’s one. I can make your new life permanent. Your new name. Your new ID. You can really be Professor Simon. Simon Lehnsherr. No one will look twice at you and think of Charles Xavier. You can finally bury that name if you want.”

Charles shakes his head, fights back the tears in his eyes. “I don’t want to bury it, you idiot! I want to go home! I want…” He sobs before turning back to Erik. The man looks pale and drawn. Charles quiets down, but his anger is still boiling on the surface. “I want to be Charles again.”

Erik tilts his head, and looks like he’s just seen something strange. It makes Charles uneasy so he wraps his arms tight around his naked middle. Erik looks away and sighs again, “Fine. Be Simon or Charles, or whatever you want. But you will do so by my side. When I’m better we are getting married, Charles. I’m not asking this time.” Charles sneers at him, ready to curse and spit at Erik. But Erik still looks so sick and tired. He weakly raises a hand. “Don't worry about having to love me, Charles. This is a marriage of convenience. A business proposition, not a romantic gesture.”

All the fire in Charles seems to fan out. He stands there gaping as Erik reaches for his dinner.

“I’m nothing like my grandfather. I’ve always been more like my Nana.”

Charles turns away and leaves before Erik can say another word.

* * *

 

The weeks after that are busy in the apartment. Erik has set up a mini headquarters in the living room. Hank doesn’t return, but the new doctor works just as hard. He’s more confident than poor Hank, and seems unafraid when Azazel threatens to break his limbs. Charles doesn’t like the man but he can’t say Erik isn’t getting the best care. They all ignore Charles for the most part. And one day, Charles is in his office staring at the recovered kylix when the criminals in his living room start to argue.

“I told you, he was a slippery little shit and you didn’t go after him the first time!”

“Fuck you! With both fingers, motherfucker!”

Charles rolls his eyes before he keeps reading. A moment later there’s a crash and Charles is sure Bobby Drake won’t be using either of his middle fingers for a while. Armando’s boys are all killers and gun dealers. Erik’s own personal army of hormonal, fatherless, young men. They idolize Erik, even after Sean’s death. And now that he’s been shot, he’s risen to almost godlike adoration. Bobby had helped to track down Sebastian Schmidt’s man, Janos. They were looking for a way to get to the real head of the Hellfire Club, but the man slipped away. Bobby had bragged about bagging the handsome man for days but apparently let his guard down to ‘sample’ the man’s talents.

He and Alex were supposed to be guarding him while they waited on Azazel to come interrogate him. Bobby released their prisoner to make use of his hands or mouth and was knocked unconscious. When he came to, he was too slow to stop Janos from attacking Alex and escaping. They’ve been at each other’s throats ever since.

“Enough!”

Erik’s voice is back to full volume menace. Charles is sure the boys are cowering and probably trying to hide their hard-on’s. Erik has taken care to appear sleek and in control. And a Controlling Erik is unfortunately, a painfully Sexy Erik. Though the Boss is supposed to still be in bed, he’s usually sitting around in his wheelchair. And he can’t just sit there like a doting granddad with a blanket on his knees. Oh no. Erik’s tailor made sure his suits fit him perfectly for when he’s upright in the chair. He’s sharp and gorgeous and terrifying again.

Erik keeps a new steel cane in his lap or at his side at all times.   A week ago, Charles watched from the doorway of his office as Erik beat a man in the face for lying to Azazel. Charles does not like the cane. And he would never mistake cruelty as strength. Not after all he’s been through. But at least Erik is okay. At least Erik will continue to be okay. He’s back to being the best strong-arm of his syndicate. Charles is unimpressed with random acts of violence. He stays in his office when Erik has to prove a point.

Besides the violence, Erik gives him little to do now. He keeps Charles locked in the apartment. Allowing Charles a single daily jaunt outside to run mundane errands. Charles has moved all his things into the guest room and spends his days either cleaning up his invaded space or alone in bed or in the office. He been seething, he thinks. He’s so mad at Erik and the stupid proposal he could scream. He looks at his phone, schedules a skype with Remy tomorrow and stares at his wallpaper. Erik from six months ago, standing tall in a short bathrobe. Fuck, thinks Charles. Why does just looking at the man make him so horny?

It’s not fair, he tells himself. He gets up, unable to focus on anything. Maybe he’s not allowed to leave the apartment without an escort but he thinks he can talk Alex into giving him a ride to the Bibliophile. He stops as the doorway is blocked by the broad-shoulders of Dr. Essex.

The [new doctor](http://msmiamimiwritesfic.tumblr.com/post/135011132711/the-new-doctor-is-nothing-like-hank-hes-not) is nothing like Hank. He’s not coerced or scared of anyone in Erik’s inner circle. He’s tall, handsome and constantly sports a mischievous smirk at the corner of his mouth. He’s already tried to proposition Charles twice. Charles hasn’t told on him. Yet.

Dr. Essex crowds him, blocking the next room with his body. “And where are you off to today, Simon?”

Charles hasn’t bothered with giving him his real name. Everyone here, including Erik calls him Professor now. And he has a bad feeling about the doctor. “It’s none of your business, doctor. Step aside.”

The man doesn’t move and Charles thinks of forcing him. He might be built like a brick wall but Charles suspects it’s all gym muscle. Not experience muscle. He knows how to take out a man twice his size.

Dr. Essex is saved when Erik calls him back, “Wrap this fool’s hands up.” He looks over the doctor’s shoulder. “And you. Get in here and help clean this up.”

Erik is already wheeling away before Charles can argue. He hates that’s he’s been reduced to nanny/housekeeper/cook. And not just for Erik, but for all of the goons walking in and out of his home. Charles feels like could go mad some days. He just wants to throw everyone out on the curb. Even Erik. But perhaps after fucking him.

Charles balls his hands into fists and marches into his kitchen to fetch a broom. When he returns the men have all started leaving. After the front door closes, Erik slumps in the chair. The change is immediate, but Charles now knows that there’s no such thing as ‘weak’ Erik. ‘Tired’ Erik, yes. But he’ll never mistake injured or disabled for weakness again.

Erik is working twice as hard to hold his “dirty little empire” together. Only Essex remains, standing over Erik with a prescription pad out. “I’m going to run out and fill this for you. It’s essential that we keep your diet regulated until you’re fully healed. I’m scheduling your appointment for next Monday so get ready to smile from the inside.” He smirks as he rips the sheet of paper off. He saunters over to Charles. “Keep an eye the patient, Nurse.”

Essex winks and thankfully leaves before Charles can lose a grip on his own temper. He was thinking of shoving the broom handle up the man’s ass and charging him for it. But Erik still needs care and Remy is keeping Hank busy back at the Heart of Gold.

Charles tries not to pay any attention to Erik. He’s being quiet now that they’re alone. Charles sweeps up and plans to go back to his office. He expects he’ll be left alone again until Erik is hungry or ready to go to bed or wants to try walking around with his cane.

Erik scrubs a hand through his hair, “I’m thinking of trying the shower tonight… Will you help me?”

The fucking tease, thinks Charles. “Of course Erik.”

Erik gives him wan smile, puts the cane out in front of his feet and tries to get up. Its slow going but he manages. “Well,” he says breathlessly.   “I say that deserves a sandwich! Run downstairs and tell Alex to take you shopping. I think we’re all out of the good cheese.” He grunts as he paces the living room. Moving from bookcase to bookcase.   He stops in front of one near the bedroom door, “I think it’s gotten a bit stuffy in here. I think you’d like some fresh air.”

Charles is dismissed without another word. Erik picks out a book and paces some more before settling on the couch near his wheelchair. Charles throws up his hands and stomps into the guestroom. He does as Erik says. Calls Alex. Puts on a good coat and a bullet proof vest. He marches back out and finds Erik still reading. “I’m off then, Boss. How kind of you to allow me out in the sun every now and then. I’ll try not combust in the sunlight.”

“Good,” hums Erik. “And don’t forget the good cheese.”

“Fine,” snaps Charles. “It might be while. I may find a better offer out there. A nice rich old lady who cooks her own [chicken](http://msmiamimiwritesfic.tumblr.com/post/135011487581/fine-snaps-charles-it-might-be-while-i-may) and wants to wrap me up in fur. Or a man…” He slinks over Erik and pulls the book down to get his attention. Erik rolls his eyes but looks up as Charles sinks to knees in front of the couch. He strokes Erik’s Armani clad legs and leans in, looking up under his eyelashes. “I might find a man out there. Who wants me to call him Daddy and dresses me like doll… or prefers me to be naked all the time. A big, hard, mean man. What do you think of that, Erik?”

Erik clears his throat and crosses his legs, upending Charles from his lap. “Good luck with that, Freckles. Alex has orders to shoot anyone who comes near you in the face.” He picks up his book. “Now go, before I change my mind and have you locked in that bedroom.”

Charles slaps Erik on the thigh, “You are such an ass!” He stands up and stomps over to the door, grabbing his wallet and hat. It’s not fair, he thinks. He’s horny, unutilized in his work, and ignored by his stupid fake fiancé. Erik clears his throat again and Charles looks back at the couch, wondering what mean thing the man will say now.

“Don’t forget the good cheese!”

Charles cries out as he leaves. He slams the door and stuffs his hands in his pocket.

Rude, he thinks. It’s not like he couldn’t betray Erik on one of his little walks. Alex joins immediately, following Charles closely while they walk to a high-end general store down the street.

His cell phone rings before he leaves the building. He rolls his eyes, but answers it anyway, “I know, I know. And I have to find some more bullets for your stupid gun. It would help if you stopped shooting people, you know.” He hangs without listening to Erik.

Alex runs up to him when he overhears that, “I’ll get those, sir. Let’s just get your grocery and get you back in the house.”

Charles rolls his eyes at the ‘sir’ bit. He’s not entirely sure he’s older than Alex. And he hardly outranks anyone as the untouchable arm candy of the Boss. “Fine.”

They stop at a busy crosswalk, and Charles huffs and puffs. Alex like a secret service, suited up and on guard. Charles rolls his eyes and tries not to draw attention to himself. He surprised when a pretty redhead turns to him. “Got any change, Daddy?”

Charles cringes, “God no.” He looks the girl up and down, “And why aren’t you in school or something…” He stops realizing he’s seen her before. A year before, being beaten by Gregorivich for working one of his corners. Charles wanted to help her then, but Remy held him back. Took him home and made him promise to look out for just himself. Trying to save this child then would have gotten him killed. He reaches in his pocket and pulls out all his money, almost a six hundred dollars of his petty cash. He can have Alex buy the cheese later, he thinks. He hands the money to the girl. “Don’t call me that. You’re probably older than I am.”

The girl quickly shoves the money in her pocket and looks around, “I know a place…”

“No,” whispers Charles. “I don’t want anything. Just be safe.”

He quickly walks off, forcing Alex to keep up with him. Remy was helpful and kind to him. But his rules for self-preservation always broke Charles’s heart. The waif of a girl is a reminder that he’s sacrificed others through inaction and apathy. He’s put his own survival first and that hurts.

He tries to put the girl out of his mind and goes in search of Erik’s stupid cheese.

Charles tolerates a quick trip and returns to his apartment. Seeing that girl has only agitated his feelings of unworthiness. Like he could be better and has instead sunk as low as possible. He throws his coat and hat down in the doorway. Instead of making a sandwich, he goes to his room and slams the door. “ _Let Alex make the stupid sandwich if Erik is still hungry,_ ” he thinks. “ _He’s not even supposed to be eating cheese.”_

Charles waits a while, lying in bed and letting his mind stir up trouble. _“It’s not my fault… Fuck! Remy would say… Fuck! If I could just get off, I’d be able to focus!”_ He lays on his stomach and sighs, thinking of a box in his closet. But he’d have to walk by Erik and the man would see…

He sits up as a strange, mischievous devil suddenly sitting on his shoulder. It packs away of his feelings of regret and replaces them with lust.

“ _Oh yes_ ”, says a naughty voice in his head. “ _Erik would see. And that might be better than just throwing myself at him.”_

Essex already told him there’s nothing wrong with Erik’s cock. Charles had turned red when he asked about Viagra or something and the good doctor told him Erik shouldn’t strain himself yet, but there was nothing wrong with his cock. His enormous, unused, perfectly unwounded, cock. Which he was clearly keeping from Charles just to be mean.

Charles grunts into his pillow. He’s frustrated with the solution but figures its better than going another day without getting off. In fact, he thinks, he should get ready. He gives his reflection a sad smile in the mirror. Wondering if its bags under his eyes that’s turned Erik cold. Charles takes a quick shower and prepares himself. When he deems himself stretched and wet enough he gets out and wraps his waist in a towel. He throws his lube on the bed and walks out of the room, determined to ease the tension that’s been building up since Erik was shot.

Erik is back in his wheelchair when Charles walks out. The CC feed in the living room now includes a view from the roof. He stops staring at it to look up at Charles. “Ran out of clothes in there?” There’s a slight heat behind the words, but Charles would hardly call that a success. He keeps his eyes forward as he walks past Erik to his bedroom. There, he gets the box of toys they’ve collected in the last year. A big red box that Erik can’t mistake for anything else. He walks past Erik again and doesn’t look directly at the man before shutting the door to the guestroom and dropping the box on the floor with a loud thud.

“Where to start… ah!” Charles bends over his things, still wrapped up in the towel. He opens it and pushes around the contents, looking for one thing but then finding another. Handcuffs, ball gags, a cat of nine they never used but bought with a laugh. Charles pulls out a set of butt plugs and considers wearing one. He changes his mind when he spots the ‘Monster’. A large, standing purple vibrator that makes the most ridiculous sounds. Erik used to joke that one of them would end in up the hospital with the thing still shaking inside them.

Charles thinks about Erik’s constant stream of company and pulls off the towel. If the man thinks keeping the apartment full minions is going to keep Charles from… well _he_ has another thing coming. Charles smiles to himself and gets up. He lays down on the bed and spreads his legs. Then slicks up the toy and his fingers, stretching himself again before daring to insert the silicon beast. He turns it on and is sure Erik knows exactly what is in bed with Charles.

Charles lays the Monster down between his legs and lets it tease his hole as he pulls at his half-hard cock. Its slow going, as the thought that Erik doesn’t care anymore bothers the hell out of Charles. He strokes himself and closes his eyes and imagines Erik in the other room. What if the cameras were in the bedrooms? What if Erik were looking right now? The Erik in his head is already hard and fucking his hand while he watches that giant screen, zooming in on Charles and the Monster.

Charles moans and strokes himself faster. Putting on a show for the Imaginary Voyeur Erik. He starts to writhe in the bed when he remembers that isn’t just background noise. There’s no drilling going on downstairs, there is only the Monster. He stops teasing himself and sits up, positioning the Monster under him while holding on to its base. He sinks down slowly, all the noise suddenly muffled by his own body. He smirks as Imaginary Voyeur Erik comes from the sight and starts the fantasy all over again.

Charles hangs his head, his hair falling in his eyes as he steadies himself on the bed and starts riding the toy. It’s so wide and long he never bothers with inserting it completely. His thighs are starting to burn when he notices the door.

Erik stands in the doorway, his cane in one hand while the other holds on to the doorframe. He doesn’t say anything. He just nods when Charles looks up at him. Giving him permission to continue. So he does. Its oddly tantalizing. He’s done this for clients. Hell, Charles has done this for Erik. But knowing they’re not exactly on good terms brings a new thrill to it. This must be what be angry or breakup sex feels like. Charles heard of it, but he’s never had a boyfriend before. He’s getting lost in the sensation when he feels a hand combing through his hair.

Erik covers his eyes with a hand and keeps petting his head. Charles leans into his touch. The bed shifts as Erik sits down beside Charles, his body close behind him. Charles goes still and tries to turn his head but Erik tugs on his hair. He whispers, “Keep going. I want to see you come just like this.”

“Erik?” Charles doesn’t know what’s going on, but the man keeps his hand over Charles eyes. The other leaves his hair to stroke down his neck and then chest. He rubs a circle around one nibble before pinching the nub. Erik’s hand moves further and further down. His fingers skittering across Charles skin before joining Charles’s hand at his cock. Charles cries out but keeps going, moving up and down on the Monster while Erik strokes him.

“What’s going through that pretty head of yours, Charles? I left you alone to recover, you know. I didn’t think you were actually some kind of sex addict.” His hand moves faster. “Is that what this is? Have you always been this desperate?” Charles jumps when Erik’s teeth close around his ear lobe. He loses his rhythm with the Monster, but Erik’s hand comes off his cock to squeeze his thighs. “Keep. Going.”

Charles lets out a shuddering breath, leaning back as Erik pumps him. His eyes still closed and his back arched. “I’m not desperate. I’m not the one who has to pay for sex.” He tries being stern with his words but Erik knows just how to hold him. He’s still rocking on the toy but he’s halfway in Erik lap, his neck exposed and his cock leaking over Erik’s thumb.

Erik rubs the head of Charles’s cock, his fingers massaging the shaft while Charles tries to thrust up into the tight circle of his hand. Charles’s mouth is hanging open as he pants. The fingers covering his eyes slide down, and two of Erik’s long fingers slip into his mouth. Charles sucks with his eyes still closed. He imagines must still look pretty desperate. Oh well, he thinks. He just sucks harder.

Erik then leaves him entirely and Charles is left rocking on the toy. He finally opens his eyes and looks back at Erik. The man is flushed and sweating and untying his tie, unbuttoning his waistcoat. He throws his jacket on the floor and lays back, his feet still on the floor. “Come here, Charles.”

Charles questions his sanity for all of ten seconds. Erik’s cock is tenting his slacks and Charles moves quickly from his Monster vibrator. He doesn’t shut it off, but knocks the thing on the floor. It rolls under the bed and the room sounds like it’s under construction. Charles would laugh but there’s important work to do. So he climbs over to Erik and helps to undo his slacks, his mouth watering just thinking about the real thing.

Erik lays back and stills Charles with strong hands on either side of his hips. “Take it slow, Charles. Don’t jostle me. I don’t want to explain this to Essex. Do you?”

Charles shakes his head, he’s so excited to finally be getting laid again. Erik pulls out his cock, and Charles wonders if it’s his sex deprived mind, but the thing seems more glorious than he remembered. The shiny, blushing red head feels velvety smooth and Charles is tempted to bend down and suck but Erik squeezes his thighs. Charles sits up on his and lines that pretty cock up with his hole. Erik’s eyes roll back and Charles stops just after the head enters. He sighs before settling all the way down. Charles does as he was told, gently rocks with his back arched.

Erik is sweating and shaking, and Charles worries for a moment that he’s giving him a heart attack. But then Erik sits up on his elbows, reaches out with his right hand and squeezes Charles throat. “Don’t ever…” He shudders as Charles hands fly up to scratch Erik’s arm. Erik continues, pulling Charles closer to whisper, “If you ever try to leave me again… I’ll… I’ll…”

Charles is barely listening but doesn’t feel like being threatened. He scratches Erik again and starts rocking harder. “What? You’ll do what, Erik?”

Erik pulls Charles down and kisses him on the corner on his mouth, his grip is tight but not cutting off air. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I’d do without you, Charles.” He fingers loosen to caress Charles gently on his face and lips. Charles feels like a weight in his chest was set free. He starts to come and Erik strokes him through it. Charles falls forward tired and sated but aware of the hard cock still pressing inside of him. He bites on Erik’s bottom lip. Erik lets him up to rock, even now more sluggishly on his cock.

Soon, Erik falls back. He comes while his hand gives Charles’s neck another squeeze. Charles lays down beside Erik, careful of his torso and legs. He stretches out on his back and hums. “That was… pretty decent.”

Erik laughs, “Well thank you. Did I make out any better than the Monster?”

They both listen as the thing moves around the floor beneath. They laugh and Charles answers, “It’s trying to fuck a hole through the floor.”

Erik turns to him, smiling up to his eyes. He looks tired but the hardness he’s had in the last few weeks is gone. “I missed you, Charles.”

Charles turns to his side, rubs a hand down Erik’s still clothed chest. He doesn’t bother the man about it. Erik is a beautiful man and it may take time for him to get used to his new scars. Charles can wait. He’s used to all sorts of bodies and Erik is still beautiful. He smiles back, “I missed you, too. I’m sorry about… everything. Can we start over?”

Erik sighs with a rasping breath. “Let’s start with calling my doctor.” He closes his eyes and frowns. “I think this is going to be embarrassing.”

Charles gets up and rushes to the phone, “You _idiot_! I told you, you would die!”


	5. Egos, Eggs, and Ergo

“This is the third time you’ve tried to kill me.”

“Shut up, Erik. I’m not that bad a driver.” Charles keeps his foot on the accelerator and ignores Erik’s histrionics in the passenger seat. There was no reason to have Alex drive them everywhere _all_ the time. If Erik’s enemies were lurking on the freeway, Charles is sure they could both handle a high speed chase. In fact, Charles is looking forward to one. It took a lot of convincing just to get to this point, taking the wheel for their little trip back to the Heart of Gold.

Erik holds onto the seatbelt across his chest. “My heart is going fall out on the floor.”

“You’re fine. People need to move faster. And that bird was already dead... Or dying. “

“Where the hell did you learn to drive?” The car stops at a red light and Erik looks around the front seat like he expects something combust.

“Remy taught me,” smiles Charles.

“Oh god.”

Charles laughs. He’s enjoying the way Erik looks like a nervous old woman. Pearl clutching and all. He teases, “It’s not that bad. It’s not like I could get a real license before.” Now that he’s Simon Lehnsherr, he has a whole pile of new cards sitting in his back pocket. Credit cards, club cards and a government issued Driver’s Identification. Not a fake one. A real one. Charles doesn’t want to know what Erik did to get it made. He turns to see Erik unbuckled and trying to climb over the seat. “What are you doing?”

“We’re going to pull over and start again. This time, I’m going to teach you how to actually drive.”

Charles bats him away, determined to keep the wheel. “I already know how to bloody drive! You’re just being dramatic!” Erik backs off and buckles up again. Charles presses on the gas a little hard when he reactively stomps his foot. Lesson one from Remy, don’t let emotions get the better of you.

“You are too close to this car… back off! Charles pull over!” Erik turns in his seat again.

“No! We’re going all the way there and I’m driving and that’s that.”

Erik sinks back in his seat, “Think of the headlines tomorrow. Couple dies before honeymoon. Twinky husband refuses to give up the wheel.”

Charles rolls his eyes, “I am not a twink. I’m a twunk.”

Erik laughs, “Alright, Mr. Lehnsherr. Just try and stay in one lane”.

Lesson two, thinks Charles. Driving is just like playing a video game. And though Charles is not fond of games, he’s remembers being thrilled the first time Remy showed him how to hot-wire a car. They went cruising and ran over trashcans in a suburb. Charles turns to Erik with a big smile, “But where’s the fun in that? There’s all these lanes just for swerving in and out of...”

“That’s for merging traffic!”

“Oh is that why they keep turning in from there?” Charles hums. Perhaps with all his reading he should pick up an actual traffic laws book one day.

“Pull over, Charles.”

* * *

 

After half an hour of Erik’s whining, Charles gives up the wheel. It’s not fair, he thinks but the ride to the country gets quiet and peaceful. Charles takes out his phone and passes the time, reading up on state driving laws.

They arrive around lunch time and Charles leaps out of the car to run towards the mansion. He doesn’t bother waiting for Erik. The man still walks with a cane, but the last thing he wants is help from someone. Even Charles.

Charles passes a few familiar faces and hugs Kitty in the foyer. She’s with the blonde that favored Angel the last time he was here. The woman is already a foot taller than him, and in heels… Charles tries not to think of it as he looks up, up and up.

The woman smiles down at him, “Hiya, Sweetie. Remy’s been telling us the _sleaziest_ stories.” She smirks when Charles bites his lip. “Don’t worry. I’m not here to tease. I was just wondering about Angel. Do you… do you know anything?”

Charles frowns and looks at the doorway. Erik hasn’t made it in yet. He’s probably getting their things sent to the cottage. Charles turns back to the blonde amazon, “She’s on a mission. I’m not allowed to say anything, you understand. She’ll come home when she’s done. Perhaps even in time for the wedding, I think.”

The woman gives him a sad nod and turns away, leaving Charles to seek out his friend.

He finds Remy on the floor of the Solarium, nestled between Ororo’s thighs. It looks like a wonderful place to be, he muses. Though the Madam is just combing through Remy’s long hair. She’s starting a French braid and Remy sits with his eyes closed, looking completely relaxed.

Charles runs up to them and kneels down by his friend. “Please tell me I’m next. I want pigtails and maybe little ribbons.”

Remy opens one eye, “Now I’d pay to say that.” Ororo lets him go and he falls toward Charles. They hug and kiss each other on the cheek. “I missed you, my Petite Chipmunk,” he says with a heavy, if incorrect accent.

Charles rolls his eyes, “Is that Cajun thing giving you a lot of mileage here? I still don’t think you’re doing it right.” He butts heads with his friend. They both make themselves comfortable as Ororo starts braiding again. When she finishes, she flips Remy’s ponytail to the front and Charles yanks on it. Remy laughs and shoves him, hard enough to topple Charles on the floor.

Ororo stands up, “You two are like a pair of puppies…” She shakes her head, and walks away with a gentle smile on her lips. Clearly she’s too refined for their childish roughhousing.

Charles isn’t done assessing his friend. It’s been almost five months and Remy looks stronger, thicker and more sturdy. He’s tan and bright eyed. Charles can’t remember the last time Remy looked so good. It may have been years ago… before Gregorivich.

Remy stands up and dusts off his jeans. They’re finer than the torn pants he’s used to wearing. He’s even wearing a preppy polo shirt and Charles recalls the man once swore he would never dress like one of the frat boys he serviced. Charles wonders if this was Remy’s idea or if he was borrowing someone’s clothes. He gets up and feels like he should stand straighter next to Remy now. Their height difference seems more apparent somehow. “Come and say hi to Erik. He’s probably outside arguing about that cottage.”

Remy throws an arm around Charles’s neck, “Logan’s place?” He smiles, “Then where am I going to sleep?”

Charles gasps, “You didn’t!”

“I did. Repeatedly.” He grins and they both start, for lack of a better word, giggling.

“Goodness,” says Erik from the doorway. “Is this the start of a slumber party?”

Remy narrows his eyes at Erik. Charles has kept him up to date over the phone and Skype. His friend is not supportive of the ‘marry into the mob’ plan. “Better than just showing up to shoot people, though.”

Charles rather not blemish his visit with a fight. He cuts Erik off, “Four-hour drive! God am I hungry!” He grabs Remy by the hand and leads his friend to the kitchen. Erik follows them and joins Charles at the table.

Remy was always a good cook. He taught Charles how to be self-sufficient in the early days. Charles was a small, skinny kid from a privilege family. Cooking had never been a part of any of his studies. Remy showed him the basics and taught him that breakfast food was the best anytime food. He falls back on that now, starting a dish with eggs and toast.

Charles leans on his elbows, proud to see his friend looking so good. “We have to get you fitted for your tux. You can’t walk down the aisle in just jeans, you know. Its traditional or something.” Remy looks back and gives him a tight smile and they fall into gossiping and sharing, just like they have in the last few months on the phone.

Erik tolerates their chatter, pulling out his phone and keeping quiet while Charles and Remy catch up. He only speaks to correct Charles now and then. “The venue sits six hundred, Charles.” He says without looking up. “The rehearsal is at nine that Friday,” he says when they discuss the bachelor parties.

Erik is against the bachelor party idea, but Charles has fought for it. Remy is his primary supporter. He plates their food and sits beside Charles, ignoring the way Erik is seething in his seat. “Rehearsal my ass. It’s just a walk and a plunge off a plank, as my late Mama would say.” He wraps a protective arm around Charles and kisses the top of his head. “You see to it that you don’t drown with this old pervert on your heels, kiddo.”

Erik rolls his eyes, “Old. I just turned thirty-four. He winks at Charles, probably thinking of the ‘Special Birthday Boy Surprise’ he had the other morning. Charles was indeed surprised to wake up to the other man sucking him off. He’d thought it’d go the other way around. Erik’s oral fixation is a thing of wonder.

Remy crosses his arms, “Old as dirt. You’re eight years older than me, Father Time and almost twice—“

Charles slaps his friend hard on the arm. He hasn’t bothered to tell Erik his real age yet and he’s not planning to, either. After they made up and had a few more heart to hearts, Charles drew a line at his own past.   Erik agreed not to dig and they both agreed not to lie to each other about their future. But after the Birthday Surprise, they and a few trusted henchmen piled into City Hall. Charles has been a married man for almost forty-eight hours but he can hardly think of the paper saying its official. It’s a lie of course. Twenty-seven-year old Dr. Simon Lehnsherr is a married man. With a driver’s license. A penthouse suite. An entourage of guards, a bookstore, and so many clothes and books and things. But Charles is still… Charles.

Erik looks between them, a disgusted frown disfiguring his normally handsome face. He looks at Charles carefully, “Please god, tell me you’re not _actually_ fourteen.”

“No!” Charles punches Remy in the arm. “Look at what you’ve started!”

Erik continues while Remy backs off, “There’s a betting pool. Azazel has the most votes. That one says you’re sixteen and pregnant.”

Remy snorts, “So it was a shotgun wedding!”

Charles punches his friend again and Remy gets up from the table, “Alright! Alright. I’ll leave you lovebirds to it. I’m gonna find Logan and tend to some of my own business.” He winks at Charles before leaving the kitchen. Charles raises an eyebrow at the gesture but leaves it alone. Remy’s always been a character actor.

Charles was hoping the conversation was over, but Erik can’t just be sensible and leave it alone. He has to prod and pick at the scabby question. “Tell me you’re legal, at least. I can’t say I’m comfortable with fucking a juvenile. Despite the way you look, I’ve always thought you were older somehow.”

“I am older,” says Charles defensively. “And I’ve traded on this… this face of mine for years. I wonder sometimes if I should just hang it up but then another John comes out the woodwork and offers to ‘take me away from all this…’ and blah, blah, blah.” He rolls his eyes as Erik sits, arms crossed and still looking suspicious. “Ah come now, don’t be like that. I’m telling the truth. I told you about all those odd jobs I worked before. I really did try.” He pouts at Erik and then only looks more unsure. “If it makes you feel any better, I can always start smoking. You smoke all the time and now you’ve got those little wrinkles on your face.”

“Smile lines,” says Erik with his teeth. “And Wisdom and Worry. That’s what my Nana calls it.”

Charles turns back to his plate, “Wrinkles. And I’m fine with them. Truthfully I think it’s my hair that will go first. My grandfather had white hair by the time he was forty. Then he went bald.” He looks up at Erik with big sad eyes, “Will you love me when I’m bald, Erik?”

Erik smiles at his teasing and reaches over, “I will love you when you are fat, old, wrinkled, bald, toothless, and peeing in a diaper. For better or worse.”

They’re joking but the words hold on to something Charles’s chest. He lets go of Erik’s hand. “Well… I’ve already done the diaper and wrinkled bit with you. It’s time you caught up.” He gets up to clear his half-finished plate and Erik gets up to follow him to the sink. There’s just something in his eye… and he doesn’t want Erik to see.

Erik corners Charles there, “I didn’t mean to burden you, you know.” His leans into Charles, rubbing his hands up and down the younger man’s shoulders. “I’m sorry about all that. I should have been more careful.”

“My poor, unfortunate idiot.” Charles turns away from the dishes and wraps his arms around Erik’s neck. “I’ll take care of you from now on. And your family. You don’t have to worry about anything with a bruiser like me on your side.” They smile at each other before sharing a soft, gentle kiss.

“Gag!”

They turn around to see little Kitty and few other kids tittering in the doorway. “We came for the cookies, jerks!”

Charles and Erik agree to leave the kitchen to the kids. They retreat to the cottage where they’re supposed to start Part One of The Honeymoon Proper. Part two will be after the formal wedding ceremony next weekend. But for now, they are officially man and man and plan to consummate their _somewhat_ fake marriage all over Logan’s bed.

Logan however guards the front door with his shotgun. “Nope.”

He stands his ground and Erik tries to negotiate. And in failing that, tries to bribe him. Charles and Remy stand to side laughing at them as they devolve into arguing and dick measuring.

It’s Ororo who settles the matter.

She comes outside wearing khakis and flannel, a baseball cap, and thick backpack slung on her shoulders. “Does anyone want to join me on a hike up the mountain? I haven’t been up there in ages.”

Charles raises his hand, “I’ve never been hiking before!”

Remy nods, “Logan takes me up there all the time. It’s good. Fresh air. Critters and what not. You just have to get used to it.”

Erik and Logan consider each other before Erik backs down. “A walk might be good for my constitution. If that’s what Charles wants.” He smiles like it was his idea and turns back to the mansion.

Logan opens the door and whistles. “You. Inside.” He turns his back, leaving the door open.

“Does he mean…” starts Charles.

“Oh yeah. Enjoy your hike, hon. I’m gonna stay indoors.” Remy winks before running to the cottage and closing the door.

Charles shrugs wondering if Remy developed an eye twitch, what with all his winking today. Ororo smiles at him, “I’ll think I’ll go east. Tell Erik to take you on the deer path. It’s beautiful and the ‘critters’ are really tame there. You might even get to pet some rabbits.”

Charles nods and waves as she walks off her property. He hadn’t really considered the land around the estate. And a romantic hike through the woods sounds… like a lot of work. Can Erik even cope with it?

* * *

 

 

An hour later and Charles is a sweating, panting mess. Erik is quickly limping ahead of him, walking uphill through the grass and trees and probably ticks. Oh god, thinks Charles. “Are we there yet?” He’s having a hard time of it on two good legs and no internal injuries. He makes at face as Erik skips over a rock without messing a step. Charles’s usually strong thighs are burning with effort. Erik is practically tap dancing uphill, cane in hand like he’s about to break into song.

Erik stops his trekking to give Charles the full-force of his wide grin. “Almost there, Freckles. I have a favorite place up the hill. A fire pit and access to a little stream trickling from mountain. It’s perfect.” He turns his back and keeps marching. He’s a natural in his boots, a backpack similar to Ororo’s with their clothes, and tent. Charles is carrying their provisions in his bag. He’s one hundred percent sure his bag is heavier.

“Erik,” he whines. “Can’t we take a break? Like a little one? Just to catch our breath?” He coughs for effect, “I mean the air out here smells so weird. It’s like… like trees and… dirt. I don’t want your lungs giving you trouble.”

Erik laugh but finally stops long enough for Charles to catch up. “My little bruiser. My little tough guy.” He laughs again, “The air smells fresh Charles. You’re just used to the poison in the city. The air out here is good for me. I’m sure Hank would agree.” He slaps Charles on the back, “Gird your loins, darling. You’ll make it. Another half hour and we’ll be up there.”

“Thirty more minutes of walking!” Charles pouts.

But he endures.

And thirty minutes later he falls out on the grassy knoll near the fire pit.

* * *

 

A nap face-down on the grass seemed like a good idea until the ants and other bugs got curious about the man and all the strange openings in his face. Charles sits up with a start, slapping away insects from his nose, mouth and ears. “Vermin! Erik, help!”

Erik ignores Charles’s cries and sets up camp. He’s getting their tent up in the center of the little hilly mound. It’s gotten a little warm, walking in the sun in the middle of summer. Erik, being a practical man, has decided to strip down to his undershirt and move logs and do other manly things.

Charles sits, crossed-legged and watching. He wouldn’t say he was drooling over the sight but he wipes his mouth to be sure. Erik moves around, either oblivious or deliberately teasing. There’s a case near the fire pit. An axe and old log. A few minutes later and Erik’s hard at work with the tools. The sight has reinvigorated at least certain parts of Charles. He keeps his seat, one arm across his middle while he bites the nails of his rights hand. Erik looks up. “I told you not to do that. It’s a nasty habit.” He punctuates his statement with a swing of the axe.

“That’s it,” says Charles. He gets up and quickly and starts stripping out of his clothes. He drops the provisions bag and his outer shirt. “Tent. Now. We can do the fire thing later. Come on. Before I start wanking off in front Bambi and Thumper.”

Erik actually rolls his eyes. “You could help with something, Charles. This isn’t about sex, you know.”

“Bullshit,” answers Charles. He turns on Erik. “Everything. _Everything_ is about sex. Believe me. I know. And you and your sexy lumberjacking is _all_ sex. Now in the tent before I ravage you out in the open.” He leaves Erik laughing and climbs into the surprisingly spacious tent. There’s an air bed set up in the middle. Charles tests it with a flop and finds it solid and sturdy enough. Outside Erik is still hacking away. Oh well, thinks Charles. He’ll have to take care of himself. He thinks he should probably clean up first but doesn’t know where to start.

He goes back outside and Erik whistles, “I thought you’d be naked by now and humping the airbed.”

“Shut up, Erik.” He goes over to his heavy provisions bag, “I’m getting there.” The provisions he backed were really Honeymoon basics. Erik wanted this bag full of food and emergency first aid. Charles packed plenty of lube, batteries, handcuffs, and a set of colorful toys. He closes his eyes picks one out by feel alone. He smiles to himself, knowing he grabbed the long, knobby pink one. He loves the long, knobby pink one.

Erik watches him retreat back to the tent and calls out, “Wait. Don’t start anything yet!”

Charles only waits for Erik to share his expertise. They wash up with water from the stream and race back to the tent. There, a small brown doe has decided to nap. Charles knows about rats, cats, dogs, pigeons and unfortunately roaches. A large mammal just resting in the dappled sunlight takes his breath away. Instead of rushing Erik along to begin their outdoorsy sex romp, he stands there in awe. “Erik,” he whispers excitedly. “It’s Bambi!”

Erik smirks, not bothered by the thing at all. Instead he huffs out a laugh and kisses Charles on the top of the head. He hugs Charles tight and whispers in his ear, “Actually, her name is Angie. I rescued her two years ago. She’s used to coming up here, knows my tent and everything. She’s not skittish around people at all.” He kisses Charles on the head again. Then quietly walks over to the sleeping deer and scratches behind her head. She looks at him, licks his hand and goes back to dozing, comfortable in front of the airbed.

Erik gestures for Charles to join him but Charles shakes his head. Now that’s he gotten closer, he’s suddenly terrified. She’s a big, healthy girl. What if she doesn’t like him. What if she bites? What if she pees on their bed and tramples the tent? Charles keeps his place and Erik gestures again.

“Charles,” calls Erik, “It’s all right. Just come up to her slowly. Introduce yourself. She likes little people,” he smiles. “She’ll probably think you’re one of Ororo’s kids.”

Charles scoffs and rolls his eyes. “I’m not a kid, Erik!”

The deer sits up, her ears turned to Charles and he goes still again.

She gets up and walks out of the tent, stepping across the campsite with calm familiarity. Erik follows her as she goes to the provisions bag. Erik looks and grins at Charles. “Sometimes I bring treats just for her. She’s just looking trail mix.”

Charles nods from the safe distance but then panics when Angie spills the contents of the bag on the ground. She decides to nose through the food. Finding nothing she wants, she maws at one of Charles’s toys. Erik covers his mouth, laughing with his whole body at the scene. Charles doesn’t see what’s so funny. He starts to rush over and grabs the end of the green, snaky vibrator. “No, no! Bad Bambi!”

They play tug of war for a minute, while Erik refuses to make himself useful. He keeps to side while Charles tries to free his property, and Angie unwittingly tries to eat it.

Angie finally gives up, probably because of the bad taste in her mouth, and stalks off into the woods.

Erik is still chortling. Like the traitor he is.

Charles shakes the chewed rubbery toy at his husband, “Shut up, Erik!” He throws the ruined thing down in the grass. He crosses his arms, “The honeymoon is canceled. I’m not knocking boots with you in that tent, not after that little tick-ridden thief has been in there.” He waves a hand at the tent. “I want to go back to the house. Or a hotel. Someplace nice with indoor plumbing…” He stops and crosses and uncrosses his legs. “Speaking of which. I don’t… where do we?”

Erik raises a brow, “Sometimes you’re so English, it hurts.”

* * *

 

Erik shows Charles how to pee in the woods and Charles is thankful there’s no immediate need for any advance toiletry lessons. Erik is keen to start dinner while Charles takes out their bedding and shakes everything out. Just in case, he says.

It’s gotten darker and Charles and Erik sit around the fire pit as the forest starts making nighttime noises around them.

Despite still being angry and prideful, Charles sits close to Erik, his head on the man’s shoulder while their food bubbles in a pot over the fire. “I wasn’t expecting you to be so woodsy,” says Charles. He pushes and Erik pushes back.

“I wasn’t expecting you to be such a crybaby.” Charles doesn’t let him get away that kind of talk. He pinches Erik’s leg and the man slaps his hand, “See. Tantrum throwing. The mark of a crybaby.”

“Says the man who slaps people around for disagreeing with him.” He recalls Erik doing something along those lines to Bobby the other day.

Erik only wraps a strong arm around Charles’s shoulder. He noses behind his ear before giving Charles a quick kiss at the corner of the mouth. And just like that, whatever they were fighting about is over. Charles would seethe about it if he weren’t secretly glad. Happy to be in a strange place sharing an adventure with the man he… he’s married to.

Charles hides his face in Erik’s shoulder and doesn’t speak for a while. His feelings bubbling in his middle are starting to give him a mild headache. They buried the hatchet, so to speak but even when saying their vows and signing their names at City Hall, they never properly said the words to each other. Charles is torn about his future, his past, his right now. Does Erik really want him or is Erik just using him? Can he ever really tell the man the truth?

Erik rubs his shoulder and stretches out his legs. “Ororo, Magda, and I use to tell each other stories up here. We had a lot of fun when we were kids. By the way, my cousin is coming to the wedding. Don’t listen to a word she says. It’s all lies.” He smiles gently squeezes Charles. “But what about you? Are you sure there’s no family from your old life? No one at all you’d want to share our big day with?”

Charles shakes his head. His voiced is muffled in Erik’s shirt, “Remy. That’s all the family I have now.”

Erik sighs, “Okay.” He kisses on the top of the head, reaches up to run his fingers through the messy waves. “I get that something happened to you… But Charles… You can tell me. We promised not to lie anymore, remember? Omission is just as bad as lying.”

“It’s my life, Erik. My story. It’s not a campfire song or something. I don’t want to tell it here.” He finally looks up and implores with his eyes. “Just leave it, Erik. Please.”

For a while, Charles thinks Erik’s given up. He lets go of Charles to make bowl their stew and pours them both some water. They settle together and eat in silence. Afterwards, Erik cleans up. He’s ardent about putting everything away, scaring Charles about bears and wolves.

Charles thinks the coast is clear when they go back to the tent. Erik strips down but keeps on his boxers and undershirt. Charles is fine with that. He can sneak a hand up Erik’s bare middle and squeeze the soft skin. Erik’s gained a little weight being sedentary but it’s hardly off-putting. He doesn’t have to be a rock-hard Adonis, Charles muses. Healthy and mending, alive and well. Charles is just happy to have him whole. Erik however, disagrees. Charles may be prideful and secretive about his past, but Erik is vain. He thinks his new scars somehow diminishes his hotness. The stupid man.

Charles kisses Erik while rubbing his hand in a circle under the shirt. Erik hums while they stretch out on the bed. Their arms and legs tangling, theirs mouths kissing. Charles has let his guard down, thinking of the knobby pink toy under his pillow and the bottle of lube under Erik’s. Erik chooses then to strike.

“But if you could bring anyone at all to the wedding who would it be?”

“Erik.”

“Honestly, Charles.” Erik sits up on his elbow. He gives Charles that horrible knowing look, like he can read minds or something. Charles finds it insufferable and turns over. Erik shakes his shoulder, “Don’t, Charles. Just answer the question. You don’t have to give me details. I just want to know. Please, just share something with me.”

Charles flops, laying on his stomach and looking crossly at Erik. “You don’t have to keep pressing, Erik. You’re just being mean.”

“And you’re being stubborn. I’m not trying to hurt you, Charles. I just want to know more about you. We’re going to share a life together. For better or worse, remember. I think I should know more about the man I married. Not just all of his erroneous zones and favorite pizza toppings.” He tickles Charles under his chin and that never fails to make the younger man squirm.

Charles sighs, “All right.” He thinks for a long moment before finally answering. “My stepmother.”

Erik raises an eyebrow, “A stepmom? Aren’t they universally known as wicked witches?”

Charles thinks back to the day he left, remembers the way she looked the last time he saw her. “Not mine. She was an angel. She was kind and sweet. Way too young to marry a nasty old man. She signed up to a be a trophy wife and found out… she found out what he was when it was too late.” He turns his face into his pillow. It bothers him that he wants to cry thinking about the woman. “She wasn’t even ten years older than me. She was more like a sister, I suppose.”

Erik pats him on the head, then strokes through Charles’s hair with his fingers., “What was she called?”

Charles sniffles before answering quietly. A word he’s kept close to his heart for the last several years, never intending to speak it again. “Mallory.”

Erik smiles brightly at him, his eyes a little sad the corners. He leans over to kiss Charles on the cheek. “That wasn’t quite pulling teeth, was it. Do you feel any better?”

Charles frowns up at him, “No. Why the hell would I feel better?”

Erik laughs, his elbow slipping and knocking into his pillow. He reaches under it and pulls out the lube. “Well, my prepared little Eagle Scout.”

“Don’t be gross, Erik.”

“All the kinky… and that’s it. That’s boundary?” He smirks down at Charles.

Charles sits up and takes the lube. “I’m tired, Erik.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, ‘oh’. Good night.” He turns over again, curls up into a ball.

Erik sighs and gets out of the bed. He turns off their lantern and checks the tent’s opening before climbing back into the airbed, making it squeak as he gets comfortable on his side. Charles keeps his eyes closed and pretends to sleep, waiting for Erik’s breathing to even out.

When he’s sure his Boss/Husband is sound asleep, Charles turns and looks at the man. “Sneaky rat.” He kisses Erik on the forehead snuggles under his arm, slipping a hand under Erik’s shirt. His fingers circle the scars and rub Erik’s stomach, eliciting a soft hum from the sleeping man. Charles finally dozes off and has nightmares about the days leading up to his escape. A trip to the hospital and being stared at by doctors while his poor stepmother stood to side, shame clearly written on her face.

He wrote her a letter before he left, and the last words keep echoing in his dreamscapes. “ _Someday I’ll free you too. Someday we’ll both go home.”_

* * *

 

 

Bright sunlight and chirping birds. Charles hates these things.

“Erik,” he whines. “Don’t let me ever agree to this again. Just don’t let me.”

Erik is not in the tent. Charles confirms this when he opens his eyes. Also it seems the airbed sprung a leak. He’s on the ground. The rocky, bumpy ground, and something natural is digging in his back. He groans and tries sitting up.

“Erik,” Charles whines again. “I want to brush my teeth! I want to pee!”

“Get up, Charles,” says Erik, sticking his head inside the tent flap. “I made us some oatmeal for breakfast. Get up and try some before we start walking back.”

Charles groans and grudgingly rolls over. “Walking again. At least its downhill this time. Bother, Erik. I can’t believe you brought me out here. To this bloody torture trail. Mosquitoes. Sunlight.” He sneers like there’s a bad taste in his mouth. Which in fact, there is. “And no proper waterworks to speak of. I’m never doing this again, Erik.”

Erik, the troll, finds all this incredibly funny. He moves around outside, swinging his cane as picks up after their mess. When everything is packed away neatly and Charles is once again bearing the brunt of the provisions on his shoulder, they trek back to the Heart of Gold.

Charles swats a persistent mosquito in the early morning light. “Why are they only buzzing in my ears!?”

Erik shrugs, marching along. “You taste better,” he throws a dirty look over his shoulder. “I agree with them.”

“Shut up, Erik. That ship has sailed. You had your chance and you squandered it on confessions.”

“Did I,” says Erik. With a superior tone.

It makes Charles boil, “You did, indeed! For what! One secret! One stupid secret from my life. I don’t have to tell you anything, Erik Lehnsherr. Just like you don’t have to tell me when you’ve shot someone or thrown someone in the river.”

“I don’t throw _someone_ in the river, Charles. I throw _bodies_ in the river. There’s a difference.” He gives Charles a dark smile, but Charles is in no mood for Erik’s warped sense of humor.

“I mean it, Erik. You ruined our whole weekend. I just want to get back to the house, soak in a bath and forget the whole blasted day even happened.”

“You really do get more English when you’re agitated.”

“Shut the fuck up, Erik.”

* * *

 

Charles endures the walk back to the house. The path in front them clears up and they see the house below them. Fire and all.

“Erik!”

“Fuck!”

Charles runs downhill, overtaking Erik as he rushes to find out what’s happened. The top floors of the Heart of Gold is up in flames, thick smoke billowing out of it and choking the air around them. Erik calls out to Charles but he doesn’t listen. He quickly runs down the path and straight to the house’s front lawn. There the residents have gathered, carrying buckets and blankets. Remy is helping Kitty and few boys with a hose. Charles runs over to them first. “What happened!”

Remy grabs him and hugs him tight. When he lets go and goes back to the hose, “Some asshats rode up here and threw a Molotov at the fucking window!”

Charles looks around, “Who? Why?”

“I don’t know. Logan caught one of them. Dragged the fucker right out of his car while they were driving away. It was awesome.”

“Focus, Remy.”

“Right. Well, he’s got him up there in the cottage getting him to talk. We called 911 but it’ll be almost hour before they can get here.”

“Shit,” says Charles. He moves to help the boys and girls with the water.

Angel’s blonde friend is taking a head count, making sure everyone got out. Erik has just reached the house. “What’s going on?”

They fill Erik in and every gets organized. Erik leads them until they’re sure the fire is contained.

Charles and Remy man hoses. Someone has the brilliant idea to throw buckets of dirt on the fire where its spreading to the first floor. It actually helps before the fire trucks arrived. The girls and boys are all too happy to share their battle scars with the beefy rescuers who admire their hard work but warn everyone the not to risk themselves like this again.

Charles and Remy follow Erik’s lead, hiding out in the cottage while the scene at the main house is cleared up. The last thing Erik, (or anyone in the house) needs is media coverage.

They walk in on the Caretaker as he’s bending back the fingers of a man who’s tied up and gagged on the couch. The young man cries out and looks to them all for help. Remy clears his throat, takes Charles by the hand and heads to the bathroom. Leaving Erik to join Logan in the questioning. They start a shower and Charles hesitates for a second before remembering the fact that he’s seen Remy naked before. They’ve both bathed in train station washrooms and hosed off together in diners, hostels, and truck stops.

Remy gives Charles a side eye, “I’m not keen on going back out to that mess, you know.” He strips and jumps in first, unbraiding his hair under the water. “This ruckus your new friends like living with.   I told Old Ro’ I was heading out next week.” He peeks at Charles. “I’m thankful for all their help before, but… we don’t have to live with this shit, Charles. We can get the hell out of here. You and me. Anywhere in the world.   Hell, now that I’m clean, I feel like a new man.”

Charles raises a brow, standing outside the shower and watching the water fall down Remy’s naked backside. “You look great. For what it’s worth.”

Remy grins and turns on him, “Hush your mouth, kitten. That’s incestuous.” He turns back towards the spray and starts washing his hair.

Charles sighs, “I wanted that, you know. To take you and run away. But…. I don’t I know. I’m invested. I have to stay with Erik. We promised each other. Fuck, Remy, we’re married.”

“Fake married. With a fake name. And a fake wedding cake,” corrects Remy.

Charles slumps, “No we haven’t even got to the cake part, remember.” He steps out of his clothes. Remy has seen him grow up and fill out over the last seven years. Until they got caught up with Gregorivich, they lived out of each other’s pockets. Remy has bathed Charles after rough Johns, and sheltered him when they were outside in the cold. It’s easy to slide in and join Remy, staying close to the wall while his friend rinses the smoke out of his hair.

Remy hums, his voice a little rough since Gregorivich got him using all kinds of drugs. He used to have a beautiful voice, a sound that paid off around Christmas, when they would sing carols in lieu of work.

Charles is comfortable, warm and feeling clear-headed as he talks to his best friend. “It’s just… I kind of like him, you know. I don’t want to just abandon him. I have money now. We can go anywhere, really, Remy. Well, almost anywhere. But Erik was hurt and it was all my fault. Sort of. I mean…”

“Stop rambling, Charles.” Remy hands him some soap and pushes him to the front of shower. He starts rubbing Charles’s shoulders, “You got a taste for the old pervert, so what. I like Logan just fine, but I’m not going to hitch my trailer to him and ride along for all his crazy, finger-breaking bullshit. We’ve got rules, remember? We don’t have to be mean and nasty to get what we want. Fucking and stealing is straightforward business. A little cutting never hurt no one…” He grins, “Not permanently, anyway.”

Charles rolls his shoulders as his friends kneads the muscles in his back, “I don’t know that. You don’t know that. We’re just as bad as Erik. We’re probably worst. At least people see it coming when he hits them.” He sags and turns to Remy, “I just don’t want to be a whore and a cutter for the rest of my life. I had a scare you know.”

“I know…” says Remy having heard the story of Big Daddy more than once now. He rolls his eyes before Charles can start again. “Thought you were dead, blah, blah, blah.”

“No! Not blah anything! I thought that was it! But Azazel or Angel or Erik shot him before he could shoot me. I would have died that night. And you’d still be strung out on Gregorivich’s shit, bottoming for frat boys across town. You wouldn’t even have known.” He sniffles and Remy shakes his shoulder.

“No crying, Charles.”

“I know.”

“I mean it, Jigglypuff.” Remy says. “Head up and eyes clear.”

“Don’t start that!”

Remy ruffles his hair, “I’ll start whatever. I mean it. You’re letting this sugar daddy get you all attached. It’s not healthy, you know. You try and stick to something like this long term and you end up screwed over. Believe me, kiddo.”

Charles tenses, his shoulders hunched while helps scrubs his hair. They linger in the shower while matters are handled in the next room.

When Logan comes knocking on the door, he tells Charles that Erik is already in the car. They’re heading out with the others back to town and the hotel. The only person unaccounted for is Ororo. Logan and Remy are staying behind to go fetch her and tell her what happened.

Charles hugs and kisses Remy goodbye, leaving his friend with promises to see him again at the wedding.

In the car ride back, Charles notes that Erik has changed his clothes. A bloody shirt sits on the backseat of the car. He doesn’t ask about the young man in the living room or why Erik smells like dirt and smoke. He saw the grey smoke coming from a new wood mound. He doesn’t want to know.

* * *

 

They make it back to the city, Charles’s weekend plans all smashed and burnt. He stays quiet and Erik leaves him while he settles the men and women from the Heart of Gold. Kitty and her friends are going to tour the hotel’s restaurant. Charles watches them for moment as they run around the lobby before going up to his rooms. He flops down at the bar and pours himself a drink. Then another and another. He turns on the TV and flips through until he sees the news.

**_“I have it on good authority that those charges were dropped, Lauren. I don’t know why you’re bringing this up.”_ **

**_“Come on. I know you’re on this skank’s payroll. Someday we will have the proof to lock you up with your boyfriend!”_ **

The pundits throw insults at each other. Charles has learned since the shooting that the famous consulting lawyer, Warren Worthington is indeed on Erik’s payroll. He owes Erik a mountain of favors for helping him when his father was caught hiding toxic chemicals. So now every time Erik is mentioned in the media, he’s appears with a shield of public records and photos of Erik kissing the heads of small babies. Charles spends hours alone in the rooms, just watching TV and thinking about his past. He wonders if it would be simpler to just give in and let Erik try to fix everything. No matter who gets hurts in the end. No matter what it costs Charles, personally. In the end he only strengthens his resolve. His problems are plenty, but he’s not going to heap anymore on Erik. The man has enough to deal with.

Charles has been jobless since the shooting, but helping Erik recover became fulltime work. Now, with Erik back in form, Charles is left rudderless again. He idles while watching Gilligan’s Island and wonders if he should pick through his little red book. Erik has no place forbidding him anything. So calling up one of his old clients with an offer is…

“ _Actually_ ,” thinks Charles. “ _I don’t want that.”_

Remy may have taught him how to survive, but falling back on that is not even thinkable right now. Selling his body was a last resort. Not a hobby. Erik and his bookstore has helped nailed that part of him up. Charles imagines doing more with his life now.

Erik returns and smirks at the screen, “No bedtime story?”

“My eyes are too tired,” replies Charles. He gets up and takes his drink with him. “Are you coming to bed or going back to work?”

Erik groans as he sits in a chair and starts taking off his shoes. “I’m taking a shower. Is that all right with you?”

“Fine,” says Charles. He not sure why, but they’re in a foul mood again. Charles would rather they fuck and let the tension go, but Erik is less attractive after doing… whatever he’s done today. Instead he goes into his bedroom changes into pajamas. He does pick up a book and sits on the end of bed, legs crossed as Erik moves around. Erik walks to the bathroom with his eyes down and Charles flops down on the bed, thinking of the man’s ego. It’s one thing for them to abstain because they’re fighting. It’s another, if Erik is feeling ugly again. That is something Charles simply can’t stand. He sits up, and mentally packs away the giant soup of feelings he has about Erik’s casual murdering. The man simply has to get laid, and that’s that.

Erik showers quickly. When he comes out, he heads to the wardrobe. Erik is stalling and Charles is getting tired of watching him limp from one end of the room to the other. “Everything back in its proper place?”

Erik stops, pulling out his own silk pajamas. “Nearly.”

“Nearly ready for bed then?”

“Nearly,” answers Erik again. He keeps his eyes down and avoids Charles as he puts on the top. He used to sleep naked in here with Charles, but that’s all changed of course. He keeps his back turned. Either unaware of the three marks scarring him there or less worried about them.

Charles gets up from the bed. Then dramatically drops his book. “Opps. Can’t read now. My book’s all dirty.” He tries giving Erik a wink, as demonstrated by Remy all weekend.

Erik gives him a curious look. “What’s wrong with your eye?”

Fine, thinks Charles. Everyone can’t have a sexy wink. He reaches up, circling Erik’s neck with his arms. “Come to bed, Erik.” He mouths under Erik’s neck and up his jaw. He’s better being blunt with Erik. The man can be a little slow-witted when he’s sleepy. “Come fuck me, Erik. Please. It’s been such a long day. Please,” he whines for added effect. “I want you.”

Erik swallows and Charles feels the bob of his throat under his lips as he kisses up and down Erik’s neck. Erik coughs a little and backs away, “I’m tired, Charles. Let’s just get some rest before moving on tomorrow. Like you said. It’s been a long day.”

He turns away and starts for the wardrobe, reaching in for even more clothes to put between them. Charles is having none of that. He yanks Erik’s hand away. “No. I’m wide awake, Erik. I couldn’t possibly sleep. You’ll have to tire me out first…” He grins and starts sinking to his knees but Erik gets a firm grip his shoulders and pulls him up.

“No, Charles. Not tonight.”

“Erik!” Charles stands up quickly. “That’s not fair!”

“What? I’m tired, Charles. It’s not about being fair.”

Charles pouts for all he’s worth, “Well it’s mean, then. Mean and terribly rude.”

“Rude?”

“You! Walking around all gorgeous and tanned with the hair and the jaw-line and then ‘I’m a tired old man, now.’ Puhh!” Charles goes to bed and crosses his arms. “And then you won’t let me expend my energy with _anyone_ _else_. It’s not fair, Erik. With other people, it’s just a job. But with you, I need it. I need that cock, Erik. And it’s just not fair!”

Erik rolls his eyes, “You don’t have to throw a tantrum, Charles. It’s not a very cute, even coming from you.”

Charles is sure his eyes are watering when he gets up marches toward the bathroom. He slams the door and locks it. Then sits down on the edge of the tub. He figures the only way to keep Erik from thinking about those silly marks is to keep the man occupied. He smirks at himself in the mirror for being so clever. Honestly, if Erik thinks this is the full force of a tantrum, he hasn’t seen one properly executed by Charles Xavier. He and Remy used to clean up running a Buy One Get None sell in truck stops.

Charles would play the innocent little brother who was over interested in his big brother’s work. The mark would try and convince Remy that Charles was old enough to work for his own paper. Then Charles would cry about being ‘grievously’ injured before anything really started and the mark would pay almost twice as much to keep the whole thing quiet when Remy threatened to take Charles to the hospital or the police with their license plate number. It worked surprisingly well and they rarely had to actually perform on anyone. Until they saved enough to go straight for a while. Charles tried to find real work and Remy tried not stealing. Everything was looking up until they moved to the city and Gregorivich caught Charles relapsing on a stupid corner.

Charles tries to put that bit of history out of mind. It only makes him feel guilty and ashamed. Gregorivich is dead and he has the present to deal with.

Erik doesn’t try to knock down the door. Charles finds that insulting. He opens the door a crack and peeks out into the bedroom. Erik has crawled into bed, light out and all.

Charles huffs before marching out to his side and turning the bedside light on. “I can’t believe you’re sleeping!”

“I can’t believe I’m still awake.” Erik groans and turns over, pulling a pillow on his head.

Charles climbs on the bed and straddles Erik’s legs. Erik huffs and puffs, but Charles gets him to turn over. “Erik!”

“Stop it, Charles. I mean it.” He sits up and Charles realizes Erik looks drawn. His eyes are red and saggy. He is indeed actually tired.

Charles backs off, sitting on his own side of the bed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bully you.”

“Yes you did,” Erik gives him a weak smile. “You little bruiser. But I think I had too good a time on our little hike. I’m sorry about the talk in the tent, Charles. I didn’t mean to bully you, either.”

Charles sighs, “Fine then, no whack-a-mole.”

“What?” Laughs Erik.”

“No dilly-dallying. No tally whacking. No Tackle tickle…” Erik laughs harder and pulls Charles close, silencing him with a kiss to the forehead. Charles hums and sags in the embrace. His hands moving to Erik’s middle. “I thought maybe you were still being sensitive. You know. About the marks. They’re not so bad, Erik. And chicks dig scars.”

Erik hides his face in the pillow and groans. When he surfaces he frowns at Charles, “You think I’m being vain about it, don’t you?”

Charles smirks, “You are tall, handsome, fit, and hung like a horse. You can afford to be vain. Tiny worms like me, are used to dealing with vain bastards. Your egos are always wrapped around the most unsurprising things.” His hand sneaks under Erik’s top, “And you have so much pride.”

Erik looks contrite, “Does all this arrogance disgust you, Charles? I was supposed to protect you, and all I’ve done is put you in danger. Again, I’ve put you in danger… What if we had stayed in the house? Slept in that morning while the Heart of Gold burned? What if—”

He squeezes Charles like he’s afraid to let go. Charles sighs, his hand rubs circles across Erik’s chest and middle. “Remy taught me not to think of what ifs. There’s just the here and now. The future, maybe. I’m not going to worry about what I should or shouldn’t have done. Are you?”

Erik shakes his head no and Charles smiles at him.

“Good. Then go to sleep, my sleepy gangster.” He sits up and kisses Erik on the forehead. “I’m sure you have a busy day of head breaking ahead of you, darling.” Charles turns away to turn out the light and when he settles back down, Erik wraps his arms around him.

Erik’s breathing starts to even out. He’s admitted before that he sleeps easily with Charles nearby.

Charles on the other lays in silence. He knows Erik is hiding a box somewhere with shiny new rings for their wedding. He knows Erik killed a man today. He knows Erik is going to keep hunting down Schmidt’s people. He knows Erik is digging for information, hoping to find links to people in Charles’s past so he can exact revenge. Like his Old Nana would have. What’s worst of all, thinks Charles, is he knows Erik will do this because Erik loves him.

And knowing that scares the hell out of Charles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They needed a little break.


	6. Old Wedding Hymns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been trying to post this for three days. Come on Windows 10, get your shit together, bro.

It’s a beautiful morning at Erik’s big house in a gated community in the middle of town. Erik’s bedroom is filled with soft diffused sunlight and the panting of its occupants on the bed. Charles rocks himself back and forth with Erik’s cock buried deep inside him. He leans over, holding the headboard while Erik squeezes the meat of his thighs and urges him to keep moving. “Fuck, yes. Right there... Oh god, Erik.”

They’ve been up since just before sunrise. A quick shower and morning routines somehow turned into this. Erik’s towel is still on the creaking bed. Charles’s toothbrush is on the floor. Charles was just looking for his socks when they started arguing. Apparently Erik doesn’t want his Old Nana to meet Charles knowing his new husband prefers not to wear underwear. He pointedly left them in the bathroom and Charles started ranting about personal liberties, his own preferences and freedom. Erik then called him a slut. If there’s anything in the world Charles cannot stand, it is being called _that_ word. Things then got a little out of hand.

They screamed and wrestled until they landed together in the bed. Charles out maneuvered the older man and pinned him on the bed, face down. Erik was wet and slippery, and Charles… Charles was easily distracted when he realized that winning their little bout had given Erik a hard on. He had ordered the man up the bed. After a hard slap to Erik’s thigh, they both simply accepted that their plans for the morning were going to be about an hour late.

So now Erik is writhing and grunting, his hands rubbing or pinching across Charles’s legs. Which leads to kneading Charles’s thighs roughly. Charles smirks down at the man. Erik groans before doing it again. He has expressed numerous times how much he loves Charles’s legs and ass. Often, Charles will wear a tight pair of pants and loose shirt and sit somewhere in Erik’s line of sight, counting the seconds until the man is hard. Charles is either pounced on or banished for being too enticing while Erik is trying to work. Now, Charles is sure he has Erik’s full attention. The cock inside him still pumping with a steady rhythm. He can count on Erik to last and last. Charles puts his hands on top of Erik’s and leads his hands up higher, near the crease of his thighs. Erik lets out another moan. It’s good to be wanted, he thinks with a soft smile.

Erik’s thumbnail leaves a scratch where’s he’s a little too forceful. It feels fantastic, thinks Charles. Almost life affirming. Like being in the maw of a wild animal. All of Erik’s usual menace is focused on thrusting up and taking Charles apart with his bare hands. One of which claws at Charles’s ribs and then pinches his nipples roughly before Erik sits up and bites him hard enough to mark just under his clavicle. Charles whimpers but keeps his body moving. Even after so long, Charles still marvels at how he feels on Erik’s cock. He rolls his hips with the body below him, gasping as the head of Erik’s cock catches on just the right nerves inside him.

Erik bites and sucks, licks and nips at one nipple with attention and then the other. He sucks another bruise into Charles’s skin before crashing down on the pillows. His hands take his place, leaving red marks across Charles chest and squeezing the pectoral muscles before sliding back to Charles’s waist. Charles concentrates on his rocking, keeping his rhythm while Erik’s hands spread his ass cheeks apart. That only makes the slap of their skin sound louder. The slide in and out feels more exposed. Long fingers tease along his crevice before the hands take hold of his thighs again. Charles arches his back, as Erik’s thumbs rub circles on his inner thighs. The points of Erik’s fingers digging in, securing Charles he shoves up roughly into his hole.

Charles cries out and then Erik’s right hand moves to cup his balls. His fingers rake through the short, curly hair before wrapping around the base of Charles’s cock. He looks up at Charles through his long eyelashes, “You are so good, Charles. I can’t wait to taste you again. Come on darling.” He pants as he strokes, “Give it to me.”

“Erik!” Charles starts moving faster, finding an even better angle. He leans back and rolls his hips almost out of time with Erik’s thrusts. “Erik, please!” Erik obliges while tugging on Charles’s cock and rubbing his thumb over the leaking head. When Charles is close to coming, Erik lets go. Charles whines but Erik is smirking at him like some kind of devil. Charles has to tamp down on his first instinct, which is to simply the punch the smirking fool in the face. But then Erik scoots down in the bed, upending Charles from his cock and guiding him forward. He opens his mouth in invitation and… well who is Charles to ignore something like that.

Charles feels empty and stretched when he’s left hovering over Erik, lube and precum dripping down his thigh. Erik keeps his mouth open, closes his eyes so that his pretty eyelashes fan out against his cheeks. Charles is barely thinking when he starts thrusting his cock into Erik’s mouth. He’s already so close to coming, he’s glad no one is around to record how long he lasts. Erik sucks hard while keeping a hand wrapped around Charles’s waist. Behind them, three fingers take the place of his cock, crook just right and massaging Charles’s prostrate and pushing him just over the edge. The dueling sensations work for Charles. He grips Erik by the hair and starts fucking Erik’s face desperately. Charles comes down Erik’s throat and Erik lets him go with a moan and loud smack of his lips.

Erik looks well-satisfied with himself, now that Charles is a boneless heap. Even with his auburn hair sticking up comically. A gentle push guides Charles back on to Erik’s cock and he’s easily filled again, already loose and slick. Charles is almost useless now, his thighs weak and his cock limp. He rolls forwards and rests his head on Erik’s shoulder as the man tries fucking him again, but it’s probably more difficult now that’s Charles is a dead weight on his chest.

Erik sits up to roll them until Charles is on his back. He pulls out, the head of his cock teasing at Charles’s hole. Charles is over stimulated and still shaking but desperate for Erik to finish.

He looks down at Charles, grinning. “What was that you were saying about upgrading to an android or something? Something about finding a battery operated cock that can easily outlast me? I can’t quite remember.” He holds Charles’s thighs apart. The marks he’s left are turning into dark handprints. Charles bites his lips and spreads his legs wider. Erik watches his cock line up with Charles’s hole and pushes back in with one smooth motion. After a few shallow thrusts he pulls out. Teasing Charles, knowing the younger man wants to feel full again. When Charles starts to squirm he pins his hands to bed. He finally sinks in all the way but he’s too busy smirking and being pleased with himself to fuck Charles. Which Charles finds aggravating and sexy at the same time.

“Fuck off, Erik.” Charles says weakly. “You’re lucky I left the Monster on the other side of town.”

Erik’s face breaks into a grin. He starts rutting in earnest and Charles gasps as Erik thrusts get harder. His own spent cock between them isn’t quite ready to rejoin the party, but he feels _so_ good. He wraps one leg around Erik’s waist and spurs him on. His hands strain to get free but Erik holds him fast. Ignoring the man and their stupid argument is easy. Charles figures there’s no harm done. He’ll get up and wash again. Get dressed. And still leave those prudish boxer-briefs in the bathroom. Erik is not going to bring the matter up again. And if he does, they can start the whole thing over. Charles is all for that. His cock is finally ready for a second act, starting to fill again. Erik looks down at it and up at Charles. “Could I have another taste, Mr. Lehnsherr?”

Again with that name, thinks Charles. Erik enjoys calling him that. A part of Charles warms at the feeling, like he belongs at Erik’s side. Another part, a pain restricting in his chest, tells him he’s owned now and there’s nothing he can do about it. Charles shakes his head and struggles harder in Erik’s grasp. The man doesn’t let up, but his thrusting gets slower still. Deeper and focused on a single target. The stimulation is almost enough to get Charles off again. Almost. “Please, Erik. Let me come. Please, please. I won’t ever talk about robots again. I promised. Just, please!”

Erik frees one hand and watches as Charles starts to stroke himself. He reaches down to help and they pump his cock together, pulling him through a second orgasm. Charles closes his eyes tight, seeing stars as Erik scoops up the come splattered between them on two fingers. He raises his hand to Charles mouth and Charles is all too happy to taste himself, opening his mouth wide and sucking hard on Erik’s fingers.

Erik starts speeding up, his thrusts losing rhythm, the in and out motion more frantic as he gets closer to coming. He buries himself to the hilt and moves in little hitches, his body going rigid as he finally comes. Charles sighs at the feeling of being filled and warmed. Marked. Erik pulls out slowly and flops on Charles. They’re the usual tangled, sweaty mess and Charles smiles to himself thinking that Alex is probably in the kitchen patiently waiting for the grooms to get dressed. It is the big day after all. They have to leave the bed eventually.

But they laze about, relaxed now. At least less likely to kill each other. They gently kiss and paw each other. Erik traces all the marks he’s lift on the freckled skin below him. He traces a scratch from rib to nibble with his tongue before going back to kiss Charles’s mouth. Charles lays there, exhausted and happy to leave Erik with free reign over his body.

Erik breaks off first. “My grandmother is going love you.”

“I’m sure I’ll like her, too.” Charles waggles his eyebrows trying to give his best licentious look. “They say cock-sucking skills is hereditary.”

It works. Erik backs off and gives him a stern warning, “Stay away from my Nana, Charles. I mean it. And my cousin. And my oldest nephew. And my whole family… In fact, the wedding is off. You’re not leaving this bed. You can’t be trusted with other Lehnsherrs.”

Charles laughs, “Don’t forget the hot bodyguards. Is young Alex still downstairs?”

Erik slaps him on the thigh. “That’s not even funny.” He rolls over and finally gets out of bed, “Come on, Freckles. We have a big day ahead of us.”

Charles stretches out, savoring the fact that’s he’s a well-fucked bride before the wedding. He’s not going to shy away from telling people. Bragging about having sex the morning of his wedding feels like something Remy would be proud of. Last night Remy took him to a strip club. He cited the fact that Erik seemed disinclined to share Charles with anyone, so this would Charles’s last time to see naked women. He spent the night trying to dissuade Charles from the whole wedding thing. Tempting him with hot women in lingerie and even a few girls that stayed in the hotel while the Heart of Gold was being repaired. Charles accepted a lap dance from Angel’s tall friend, and blushed through the whole thing. After five minutes of her rocking on one of his legs, (while detailing how good he felt against her clit) Charles almost came in his pants. He’d never actually been _serviced_ before and Remy teased him mercilessly for it. After that he kept his hands and his _lap_ to himself.

Remy himself was working for Azazel now, he was freelance as he explained to Charles. He could do whatever and whoever he wanted. He was still free.  

Charles had spent the night trying not to dwell on his friend’s words. He checked his phone and his bank account repeatedly. It hasn’t grown much since he stopped taking clients. He checked the messages and found one from a broker that paid him quite well after he handed over a phony artifact. He remembers the man vaguely. Mr. Telford liked role-playing and asked Charles to be his intern or something… Charles can’t recall. The sex was not inspiring and Charles only gave a half-assed performance. Still it was enough for the man to grow obsessed with him. It was unfortunate that he had to repeatedly do business with the man in the past and gave him this number. He stares at the ‘wink, wink’ message and scowls.

_“Enjoying your honeymoon? Are you free to come out and play, Mr. Lehnsherr?”_

Charles quickly deleted it and pretended he was not afraid of Erik finding out. Erik might mistake a side gig from the past for infidelity now. Charles would hate to think of what would happen then.

But ignoring the client still left him with his money problem. Erik still gives him regular deposits, his old paycheck for the bookstore front, but it would take years to make enough that way. And Charles wasn’t keen on asking his husband for a loan or anything. His anxiety kept him even-keeled. Charles may not have been a hard partier, but he feels like he let himself down, just by not being drunk. Despite Remy’s best efforts he hardly had anything to drink.

In the end he went home to Erik and found the man only a little drunk on whatever Azazel was forcing on him. They both went to bed at a responsible hour, Erik sleeping heavily while Charles stared at the ceiling.

* * *

 

In the present, Erik has stopped getting ready and started talking on his cell. Charles already knows what it’s about. There’s a black cloud hanging over their special day. Ororo is missing. She never returned from her little hike and Remy and Logan report that they searched the property and the mountainside and found nothing.

Charles sighs, thinking about what could have happened to the women in her own territory. He goes to the bathroom while Erik starts shouting in German at someone on the phone. There, he closes the door and moves to stand at the sink. It’s still a little fogged over from Erik’s shower, so he wipes it with one hand. He sees his own sad face there and sighs at the sight. “Goodbye,” he whispers to his reflection. Today he becomes officially a part of Erik’s world. The entire syndicate will know his face as Simon Lehnsherr. Heir of Erik’s little criminal operation. And Charles will be gone, hidden away, but for a few trusted acquaintances. Unless he finds a way out of this.

Erik curses loudly on the other side of the door, throwing his phone and slamming the bedroom door. Charles immediately starts thinking of how to make Erik feel better. And he wonders if he wants a way out of this. If he did, he would have made more of an effort. He would have drawn a line in the sand. He would have fucked Darwin on the Bookstore counter. Or tongued Angel until she was shuddery mess. He would have taken clients left and right. He would never have become a fulltime pet... He would have fought harder if all he wanted was to go home. But he didn’t. He played along with what Erik wanted. He took a fucking ring a second time. He took the fancy gun. (But he never wears it, despite Erik’s warnings). And now here he is. For better or worse, as Erik said.

Erik returns to the bathroom and goes still in the doorway. “What’s wrong? What’s with the sad face? Did I hurt you? Are you okay?”

Charles shakes his head and looks away. “It’s nothing. Last minute jitters.” He turns the water on and splashes his face with cold water. He feels Erik as the man steps in behind him. He’s pulled up and Erik examines his face.

“Last minute jitters? We’re already married remember? This is just ceremony.”

“Yes, I know. It just feels more real…” He shakes his head feeling stupid, “And I’m worried about Ororo. I imagine that wasn’t good news.”

Erik raises his hands to Charles face, kissing him at the corner of the mouth. He pulls away with sad smile. “We found her.”

Charles frowns, “Now you’re making a face. She is alive isn’t she?”

Erik nods, “And there’s a ransom. From the Hellfire Club. I’m to back off their operations or they’re going to keep her.”

Charles pulls away, “Keep her! They can’t do something like that! We have to save her!”

“Calm down,” Erik shushes. He runs a hand in Charles’s hair. “Azazel is working on it. I told you the right people had to die, remember? And many already have. The new leader of Schmidt’s operation is a lot smarter than he was. In fact, she’s coming to the wedding today. We’ll discuss terms then.”

Erik gives Charles a little kiss on the forehead and moves to the shower. Charles blocks him, “What do you mean they’re coming to the wedding!? Your enemies can’t be there, Erik! With your grandmother and cousins and nephews… what the fuck are you thinking! Didn’t you read Game of Thrones?”

Erik hand waves his worries, “No, but I saw that episode.” He actually smiles, the bastard. “It’s alright, Charles. Most of our guest list will be armed and their people will be vetted before they can come in. Neither of us wants to make a scene at such a place.” He steps in the shower and Charles sits down on the closed lid of the toilet.

A dark, ominous feeling settles in Charles’s gut. He doesn’t know how it’ll go down, but he’s sure today is about to become the worst day of his life.

* * *

 

In the end, they are an hour behind the rest of the wedding party. Charles and Erik let Alex escort them to the wedding venue. Erik (and now Simon) belong to the prestigious Worthington Country Club. Erik used to fish it for ripe marks, but after he proposed the second time, he saw it in a new light. Instead of ignoring the manicured surroundings and looking for easy prey, he started measuring the great lawn and ballroom. Then Erik became a bridezilla. The rehearsal dinner and ceremony were clouded with the absence of Ororo. And Erik was stress-ordering his minions to correct all manner of minor details. From the color of the flowers to the fold of the napkins. Charles thought it was funny a few weeks ago, but now, it’s only dredging up his own anxiety. He imagines a shootout during the ceremony. Remy covered in blood. Children crying. All sorts of scenarios start to plague him. He huffs as he prepares to walk in front of the syndicate. There’s no one but caterers and attendants left inside the main hall. All the guests have already been seated. Charles squirms, uncomfortable now that he’s not wearing underwear and feeling… open as it were.

A man with a covered dished walks by and Charles imagines a gun under his napkin. A woman with a sauce-splattered apron rushes by and Charles imagines a blood-soaked scene. His nerves are frayed and he feels like all the color in his face has drained.

His walks in a cloud of apprehension. By the time his head clears, he’s already started own the aisle. The green lawn was set up with romantic, flowery awnings for the seating. Seating six hundred people made the improvised walkway of dark red rug, a long and scary looking path. Charles stands at the end of it, staring ahead with his eyes squinted in the bright morning sunlight. The people become a hazy sphere of strange faces. Charles wants to throw up.

Remy is on his arm, giving him away. The music and their ‘one-two, stop’ march makes Charles acutely aware of his shaking knees. His friend frowns down at him, “Jigglypuff? You in there? You keep nodding and smiling weird.”

Charles still feels dizzy, his stomach turns and his head pounds. The faces blur and all he can do is walk on, squeezing Remy’s arm. “I want to go home.” He smiles again, looking forward and seeing nothing. He’s breathing too fast and acutely aware of all the eyes on him. He smiles harder.

“Charles?” whispers Remy. “Charles, look at me.”

Charles keeps walking but looks up at his friend’s face, “I want to go home.”

“Okay. You mean that? Cause if you mean that, I will fight every one of these gunslinger motherfuckers to get you out of here. You know that, right. I’d do anything to keep you safe, Charles.”

The walk down the aisle goes in slow motion. There are so many people here. So many criminals and killers and whores and thieves and… Erik. There’s Erik at the end of the aisle, at the foot of the alter. Standing with a Rabbi and his cousin-sister Magda. She’s lovely, thinks Charles randomly. She’s looks a little like Erik. Same hair, same eyes only she’s in a silk magenta dress and Erik’s a man in lovely dark suit. The Groomzilla made a point of about their colors. He’s wearing a magenta bow tie, a matching waistcoat. “ _Isn’t he pretty_?” thinks Charles. His mind dips in out, and for a moment he fears he will faint in front of everyone.

Remy holds him up all the way to the end. He only stops when Erik takes Charles by the hand and walks him up the steps to the Rabbi. Charles thinks his vision is whiting out, and he looks to Remy. The man looks so alert. Like he’s gearing up to do something stupid. Charles knows how that goes. The guilt still eats away at him. Four years ago, they agreed to try to go straight. They rented an apartment and their new landlord didn’t bother them with background and credit checks. Charles took what little he earned with his odd jobs. Remy… mostly circled want ads while cleaning bathrooms. And one day, a slimy antique seller that hired Charles to box things, fired him for reading on the job. Charles snapped and found himself on a corner, determined to make enough to cover the rent and groceries.

That’s how their shady landlord found him. Behind a dumpster, giving a middle-aged business man head. That’s why they were punished… Gregorivich forced himself on Charles. And when Remy found out he fought the man. He broke his own rules for keeping his head down, and Gregorivich’s men took him away... Charles feels his eyes wet with the memory. He was alone for the first time in years. When they came back, Remy was different. Broken and addicted. Desperate and small. He was kept by the goons, ushered from one apartment to another. And Charles let it happen. Charles protected himself with Mrs. Gregorivich. But the old cow wouldn’t give Remy a pass. And Remy wouldn’t ask for one. At some point Charles started to blame Remy for their circumstances. He practically abandoned his friend. He kept his head down.

A tear falls down Charles’s face and Erik wipes it away with his hand. The Rabbi is already speaking but Charles barely hears any of it. He thinks of the stone in his gut, the one unsettling him with dark premonitions. His eyes drift from Erik’s face but he can’t tell any of the strangers apart. There’s nothing marking any of them as Erik’s or Schmidt’s. Except perhaps… he frowns at a row midway down his side of the seating. A woman in white, wearing dark sunglasses stares at them with a bored look on her face. She checks her watch and crosses her legs. No one else, no man or woman is wearing white to this wedding. It was _his_ color. He’s the bride on the cake. He’s the one in the white suit. His waistcoat and bowtie is blue. His flower is white. Erik, the Groomzilla made sure of it. No one invited to the wedding was supposed to wear white.

That means this woman is an unexpected guest.

Erik is already saying his vows and Charles has to turn his attention back to his husband. He heard all of this before. Erik went over it with him. To make sure there’s wasn’t too much of his bad poetry. They agreed to keep it simple. Still he’s surprised when Erik takes his hand and kisses his fingertips. He makes a face at the bitten nails, but then smiles brightly at Charles.

“Simon… I am thankful for all that you have given me.”

“ _Who the hell is Simon_?” thinks Charles.

“And I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to wake up to your smile in the morning. Or your grumpy face, whichever you chose to bestow upon me that day.” The audience gives him a little laugh so Charles smiles with them. “I want to fall asleep in your arms at night. I want you give you everything you’d have of me and more. I choose you, and I thank god every day that you’ve chosen me in return. I love you. With all my heart.”

Charles blinks and blinks, his eyes welling up with tears. They rehearsed this of course. And he knows his part. He accepts his new ring and repeats the words they practiced. Erik looks teary-eyed as well. Reactively Charles reaches up to wipe his husband’s face and something in him breaks down. A part of him reasons he was having a panic attack before and now he’s gone hysterical. Charles starts crying before the Rabbi and can finish and throws his arms around Erik’s neck, hiding his face from that crowd full of strangers.

Erik squeezes his shoulders and back. He kisses Charles’s head, “It’s okay, love. It’s okay, I’m right here. That’s all I was saying. I’m right here.”

Charles settles back to get a grip on himself. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin the ceremony. I just… I’m sorry Erik. I love you, too.” His voice cracks. The words caught in his throat. “I love you, Erik.”

Someone in the crowd ‘ahs’ them and everyone starts applauding.

Charles ignores the Rabbi, he’s only there for presentation. Remy squeezes his hand until he looks down and mouths the words, “You okay?”

Charles nods and gives him a watery smile before turning back to Erik.

They’re swept up in the after-ceremony. Magda and Remy are close by as Charles and Erik march down the aisle. Charles is plastered to Erik’s side as they accept congratulations, hugs, and kisses. Erik’s grandmother, Edmonia walks with a cane similar to Erik’s. The crowd parts for her as she greets her grandson. She’s as tall as Erik and her thick white hair is covered in a dark shawl. She kisses Erik and Charles but then tuts at Erik, “It could have been more traditional, Erik.”

“This is a gay wedding. Charles is Catholic. We’re already married. It couldn’t be less traditional if it tried.” He says with naughty grin. The old woman slaps him on the side of the head and turns to Charles.

“And you aren’t going to give me any grandbabies. Unless you’re hiding a few bastards somewhere?”

She makes Charles nervous but he’s coming down from his panic attack. Charming old women is like old hat to him. A comfortable habit to fall back on. He smiles brightly at her, “None that I know of, Nana. Or… May I call you call you Nana? I don’t want to presume, just because I’m banging I’m your grandson.”

Erik stares at Charles with wide eyes while his grandmother belly laughs. She pinches Charles on the cheek, “You little shit! I’m going to like you!”

Erik steps between his grandmother and Charles, “Not too much, I hope. Charles has a thing for older women…”

Charles looks her up and down, “Young spring chickens, more like.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively and the saucy old woman laughs harder.

“Now that’s a bad boy!” She squeezes Charles’s cheek, “With the face of angel. I know about boys like you. One knocked me up! Don’t you go influencing my poor Erik. He has enough to deal with. And call me Mona. They call me Old Nana and I despise all the little shitheads for doing so. I’m hardly eighty years old!”

“Seventy-eight,” corrects Erik. “And you don’t mean that, Nana.” He leans in to kiss his grandmother on the head. They part smiling and Erik leads Charles through the rest of crowd.

At the end, Charles breaks away from Erik and hugs Remy. “I need you to know something,” he whispers. “You are not just my best friend. You’re my brother. I don’t know where I’d be without you. I’m going to be okay, Remy. Thank you so much... I love you, Remy.” He kisses his friend in what Erik probably thinks is not a friendly manner. But, thinks Charles, Erik can go fuck himself. He owes this to Remy. He kisses him again and they laugh together as Erik has clearly had enough and pulls Charles away.

They go back to the room they’ll spend the night in to get changed for the reception in the banquet hall. Charles had thought they would just take off their jackets and go dancing in their waistcoats, but Groomzilla insisted.

Their wedding HQ is a beautiful villa, rented out by the Worthingtons. Their other suits are already set up on a rack. Charles will wear a pair of comfortable tan trousers and simple white shirt and vest. Erik is going to wear black trousers, white shirt and red vest. Charles is almost thankful he doesn’t have to think about anything for the wedding because of Erik’s micro-managing. All he has to do is make it through the day and back out to the car for their honeymoon in the morning. Charles is looking forward to his first trip overseas in almost fifteen years. He’s hoping for things to feel more real as he moves forward, but right now he’s tired and just wants it to be over.

Charles starts for the bathroom, thinking he can at least wash his face before going back to the party. Erik blocks him, “Where do you think you’re going, Mr. Lehnsherr.”

Charles sighs, “Move, Erik. I want to wash up before we get back to the breakfast.”

Erik smirks. “You mean lunch.”

“Lunch?” Charles wonders if Erik had hit his head between now and leaving the altar.

Erik puts his hands on either side of Charles’s head. “Lunch,” he says with know-it-all grin. “The breakfast is for our honored guests. The dancing and the pre-party party. We aren’t expected to rejoin until noon.”

“Erik,” starts Charles but Erik hands have slipped into his white suit jacket.  His fingers drum up and down along Charles’s side.

“Charles. You do look good in this suit.” Erik pulls Charles close, one hand between reaching into the back of Charles’s pants. “Ah! And you deliberately disobeyed me! I knew you would,” he smirks again and Charles’s eyes widen.

“You Jedi-mind tricked me into giving you easy access?” A slow smile spreads across his face, “You, cheeky bastard! And what is our honored guests supposed to do for two hours?”

“Entertain themselves, of course. Old Nana will keep an eye on Frost and her people until we get back. In the meanwhile, everyone gets to mingle.”

Mentioning Frost and the Hellfire Club strips away anything amorous Charles was feeling. He holds Erik back at arm’s length, “And what is Ororo is supposed to do? Wait for us fuck before we negotiate her freedom?”

Erik tugs him closer again, still smirking. “Already done. I had a long talk with Frost before the ceremony. She’s a bit cold, but says we did her a favor getting rid of Schmidt and so many of his filthy cohorts. She just wants to be sure she’s not on my hit list as well.”

“And is she?”

“Charles,” says Erik pushing him towards the bed, “That’s enough business. You do look so good in that suit.” He smiles wide, “Turn over and let me get a better look at it.”

Charles is barely eased into what Erik calls Part Two Subsection A, of the Honeymoon Proper; his thoughts are still a little preoccupied. Internally his mind is whirling from that disoriented walk, to his guilt, to his trepidation. Yet he can’t seem to say no when Erik proposes they do their utmost to ruin both of their expensive, tailored suits. Charles only realizes why the extra set of clothes were needed after Erik comes and stains his shirt front. His pants end up rumpled on the floor and his jacket is tied in a knot securing his hands to the bed post. Erik’s suit doesn’t survive either. Together they earn one hell of a dry cleaning ticket.

In short time, Charles is still tied to the headboard, wearing out the seams of his fine jacket as Erik licks into his hole. He gets so desperate to come he nearly rips the thing in half. Erik finally takes pity on him. He bites down hard on the back of Charles’s thigh. Charles cries out but doesn’t move from where’s kneeling. Erik turns Charles around and kisses him just under the chin. “Tell me what you want Charles.” He kisses lower on Charles’s neck, down his chest. “Do you want me to fuck you again?”

Charles mumbles, struggles, and twists. Erik doesn’t let him up. He sags, “I’m getting tired of having to beg all the time. Can’t you just be normal, Erik?”

Erik smiles gently at him before pulling away entirely. “I most certainly can. Just tell me what you want, Charles. Do you even know what you want?”

That’s a loaded question, thinks Charles. He wants to go home is always foremost in his mind. He wants more for himself. He doesn’t want to be sixty and still begging for scraps from his sugar daddy. He wants…

Charles is so busy thinking too hard he doesn’t notice Erik letting him down. He’s laid flat on the bed and Erik surprises Charles by straddling his legs and shyly ducking his head. His long fingers revisit all the marks he made this morning. Charles reaches up and Erik frees him of his tattered jacket. They hold each other eyes as Erik guides one of Charles’s hands around to help stretch himself.

“I meant it,” says Erik. He lets Charles prep him while he his hands find purchase on the headboard.

Charles would be the first to admit he’s not thinking straight today, but this needs little figuring. He understands what Erik means. He understands and he reciprocates. He keeps his eyes on the man above him, thinking of just this morning, how many different ways he wants Erik. It makes him come all too soon, but Erik doesn’t seem to mind. He climbs off and lays down, pulling insistently on Charles’s hair. Charles takes the hint with a smile.

Again, he understands and he reciprocates.

Two hours and several hickeys later, they clean up and redress to join the civilized people in the ballroom.

When they reappear everyone applauds. (And a few people snicker. It was a long wait). Charles feels his face turning red, but pretends to be shameless. They are led to the center of the ballroom under a spotlight while [their song](http://msmiamimiwritesfic.tumblr.com/post/137072901256) plays. They sway gently together and for a moment Charles forgets all the strangers and sycophants in attendance. He looks up and keeps his eyes on Erik’s. Erik in turn looks at him like there’s no one else in the world. For the space of four minutes, they are alone and content in each others arms. When the music dies down there’s more applause and Erik and Charles are separated. Erik is dragged off by his oldest nephew and Remy pulls Charles into a slightly more coordinated dance.

Remy keeps gesturing at his own face then pointing at Charles, and mouthing, “Got a little something there on your face. Probably your backside too.”

“Shut up, Remy.” Charles notes that Logan is drinking from a flask while dancing with one Erik’s nieces. “Or I’ll tell that big man there to come get you.”

Remy shrugs, “That’s sounds like an incentive, kitten.” He manages to wink brilliantly and walks off in Logan’s direction. He takes the place of the cute little girl standing on the hairy man’s shoes. Charles is left alone when the fearsome Ms. Frost congratulates him in person, shaking Charles’s hand.

“I’m so happy for you two, Professor.” She quirks an eyebrow. “Though I can’t say I’ve ever heard of you before. You do look a little familiar.”

Erik appears out of nowhere to block her, “Just one of those faces, Emma. If you’d excuse us.”

Charles hesitates but follows Erik back to the center of the dance floor, “She wouldn’t… no I don’t think I know her.”

Erik spins him a little roughly. When they stop, he gives Charles a dramatic dip. Charles hangs on, barely keeping in step. “Are you sure? Because now that I think of it, she was a little keen on the phone. Happy to hand over ‘Ro so long as she came here. Are you sure she’s not some former client?” His voice is sharp and bitter. Belying the swing of his hips as leads Charles in a dance.

Charles doesn’t like Erik’s tone. Erik turning into the big green monster is another thing that makes him infinitely less attractive. Charles rolls his eyes before Erik dips him again. When he’s righted, he seeks out Emma across the crowd. The woman is talking to Angel and Mona. She is a dazzling sight in white. If one didn’t know better, one would say this was her wedding day. Charles sighs again, thinking of what if’s and would haves. “Believe me, Erik. If I’d been paid to sleep with that woman, I would remember. I don’t think it’s an experience I would forget,” he tries joking but Erik is still stony.

“That’s not funny, Charles.” He gives Charles’s hand a tight squeeze before leading them to their head table. Remy sits on Charles left and Mona sits on Erik’s right. They sit and accept gifts and congratulations from Erik’s family and flunkies. A few henchmen confuse their lives with The Godfather and tries to ask for favors. Charles and Remy thinks this hilarious. They play around, doing Marlon Brando impressions and quoting the movie while Mona laughs and laughs at them.

Dr. Essex comes up and offers his services for the future, leaving a card on the table. “Call me day or night, Erik. Simon.” He winks at Charles before leaving. Erik raises a brow and looks to Charles for an answer.

“Don’t look at me,” he shrugs. “He only acts like he fucked me. Frankly I can’t stand the handsome bastard.”

Mona laughs when she overhears then the table follows her good humor.

Erik softens as the mood around the wedding party is light again. All the panic and disorientation Charles felt earlier has melted away. Emma is not a big bad beast. Mona likes him. Remy is okay. Everything will be fine. He can do this, he thinks. He can be Simon Lehnsherr and then Charles at home. He can have this new family. Perhaps it’s okay… perhaps it’s okay to move on. Maybe he doesn’t have to go home after all.

The thought frees a weight that has been holding Charles down for seven years. He doesn’t have to go home. Erik is home. Remy is home. He can stay right here and not…

A woman with a large box approaches the table. Erik smiles brightly, turning his full attention to her as if he can see over the box. All Charles can see is her bare shoulders, her blue dress and the edges of her hat.

“Simon,” says Erik after pulling him over to kiss his head. “I don’t think you’ve met Raven. She’s part of my Uncle’s old guard. A jack of all trades.” He’s beaming. “She trains my best now.”

Charles tries takes in the woman in front of him, “Nice to meet you, Raven.”   He smiles when the woman grunts as she sits the box on the table.

Erik laughs, “I told everyone that we had enough appliances. If this is some kind of industrial waffle maker or vacuum, you’re fired.”

Everyone laughs. Mona slaps Erik hard on the back, drawing Charles’s attention just as the woman peeks out from behind the box, a wide brim hat on her dark red hair and sunglasses now obscure her face. “Nice to meet you, Simon…” She stops and stares before giving him a thin smile, “Oh.”

Charles stares and stares at her.   When he finally recognizes her, he responds in like with a sedated, “Oh.”

Erik looks between them and barks out an uneasy laugh. He leans over to whisper in Charles’s ear, “Please tell me _she’s_ not a former client. I didn’t think Raven dappled in that.”

Charles shakes his head ‘no’ and gets up from the table, “Excuse me, I need some air.

Erik grabs him by the hand, but he slips away. He walks quickly away from the noise of the party. Away from Erik and Remy and apparition at the table. He ignores the way people look at him and keeps his head down, walking briskly through the crowd.

Charles starts running when he’s clear of the guests and caterers. Starts crying when he’s alone outside their private villa. He goes inside and shuts the door, flops on the bed that still stinks of sex from earlier. He really breaks down then and cries loud and hard, sobbing. He knew this couldn’t work out, he thinks. He knew it would be the worst day of his life.

Why else would his stepmother be here?

* * *

 

Charles stays in the bed, the worst of his crying turning into choked sobs. He buries his face in the pillow and wishes he could melt away, never to be seen again.

A knock on the door doesn’t surprise him. He’s expecting Erik or Remy to be after him. He doesn’t bother answering, instead he rolls over and puts his back to the door, hoping to put off any explanations.

The door opens, “Charles.” Charles turns his head. Its Mallory. Raven. Whatever she calls herself now. She makes a face and covers her nose, “I see why you were late to the reception. Already started the honeymoon?”

Charles wipes his face and climbs up higher on the bed. He pulls a pillow in his lap, trying to shield himself from her scrutiny. What must she think of him now? How long did she… “When did you find me?”

“Just now.” She closes the door and leans against it. “When Angel told me Erik was all strung out over a new boy I didn’t know what to think. I’ve been busy with west coast operations. Does he even know your real name?”

“Does he know yours,” snaps Charles. He looks up at her and feels hurt in a way he never thought he would. Betrayed, he thinks. He feels betrayed by this woman he thought was an angel.

She merely shrugs. “My name is Raven Darkholme. Erik’s known me a long, long time.”

Charles frowns at here, “How is that possible? How could you… why would you marry Kurt if you were really… some kind of mobster? How?”

Raven slides down to the floor and sighs. She looks tired. The way Erik sometimes look tired. Like the weight of all their sins are being dragged under their eyes. Charles wonders if he ever looks that way. She lets her head fall back, thumping the door as she looks up. “You were supposed to be easy. The Marko job was _supposed_ to be easy. Old Mischa saw he was weak handling what was left of the Xavier holdings. It infuriated him. Jakob and Ororo’s family liked the Xaviers. An upperclass couple that invited their old criminal chums to society weddings.” She smirks. “Mischa said they were on the up and up. Good people who deserved better. One of the traitors that killed his brother was rumored to have killed Brian too. So Mischa started cleaning house an keeping an eye on what was left of that family. But it cost money. He hoped getting his fingers into some more legitimate holdings would protect his family.”

“What holdings? Kurt ruined everything. He sold or gambled away everything. There wasn’t any money left! No property! No bonds or company shares! Nothing!”

“But he still lived well, didn’t he?” She raises a brow at Charles. “And that façade he kept up, that’s why Mischa sent me. To take whatever he was hiding. Force him to finally sell your father’s production and research labs. I looked high and low for that whole year. I thought maybe the secret was a padded overseas accounts. A politician in his back pocket. Some insured jewel hidden behind a portrait.   I never thought it was you. A kid. A poor innocent kid.”

“Stop that,” hisses Charles. “I’m not… it’s not like that! And don’t you dare tell Erik!” He climbs off the bed and crosses over to her. “I’m not some victim! I can’t let him see me like that! He already thinks he’s my knight in shining armor. I can’t let him think that… Just stop that, right now! And if you ever breath a word of this to Erik…” He starts to crumble. He doesn’t know why he’s flying into hysterics. “Just don’t! Don’t tell him! Please!”

“Charles,” says Raven pulling him into a hug. He sobs on her shoulder while she rubs his back and shushes him. “It’s going to be okay, Charles. I won’t say anything. He’ll probably break my neck when he finds out I had anything to do with you being unhappy.” She pulls away and smiles at Charles. “I can tell, you know. He really does love you. More than anything.”

“Exactly,” says Charlese without a drop humor. “That’s what I’m afraid. I don’t need Erik to go on a revenge spree for me. There were so many men… and I know he wouldn’t stop until he hunted them all down. Including Marko. I can’t live with that on my conscience, Mallory. I just can’t.”

Raven strokes her fingers through his hair, “Its Raven, remember?” She smiles softly before pulling away. She wraps her arms around her middle and takes deep breath. “Besides,” she says with a nervous look. “I already killed Marko. I finished my mission that night. Him and his cronies… I went to get you and you were already gone. If I’d been a little quicker,” she breaks off with a sob. “I’m so sorry, Charles.”

Charles stays on the floor.

It’s like Remy says, he thinks. The What if’s.

They get you every time.

So he stays on the floor and covers his face. “Please. Just go. Leave me alone and… don’t tell Erik anything. I’ll tell him when I’m ready. Just please. Just leave me alone.”

He hears her as she gets up and moves out the door.

Charles stays on the floor, that terrible feeling in his gut returned. And it’s so much heavier now.

* * *

 

Eventually there’s a knock on the door and Charles has to get up to answer it. Remy and Angel stand on the other side. Charles wipes his face, “I know. I’m sorry. I just had a rough moment. That woman looked familiar. It’s not her fault, you understand. Just…. I had a moment.” He keeps his face down and lets Remy step inside.

Remy grabs him by the shoulders. “Just say the word, Kitten. Angel here promised she’d help.”

Charles looks over at Angel. It’s the first time he’s seen her up close in months. Her hair is cut in short pixie style and she’s wearing a light yellow dress. She has a new scar across her neck, but she’s not hiding it. She stands there, head up and hands on her hip. “Something my sister said?”

“Sister?”

“Raven. Mischa raised us together. We were runaways and he taught us to look out for each other.”

“Like me and Remy…”

Angel rolls her eyes, “No. Not like you and Lord Junkie here.”

Remy punches her on the shoulder and she looks him up and down, the threat clear enough for him to back off with his hands raised. “No harm done, Lady Deathbreath.” He backs away from her and moves to stand behind Charles. “Besides, I’m clean now. And Charles and I are just like brothers. That occasionally make out.”

Angel makes a face at them both before tossing her head, “I don’t want to know. Just say you’re okay and coming back to the party. Erik is about to kick everyone out and probably shoot the caterers. Remy told him you had a stomach ache.”

Charles huffs out dry laugh. So the nightmare he thought of earlier is still a possibility? “Please go back and tell Erik not to kill anyone. I just have a headache, that’s all. I’ve never been around so many people… it’s like I’m overloaded or something. Tell him to just calm down and I’ll come back when I feel better. He owes me another dance.” He smiles and tries to reassure them both that nothing else is wrong.

Remy pats him on the shoulder and Angel leaves without saying anything. Charles hugs his friend but leads him back to the door and lets him out with a sad smile.

“Honestly, Remy. I’m good. I’ll be fine. I just need a moment to myself. Tell Erik to hold his horses. I told him we should leave it small. He’s the one who wanted a big Important Event. In fact, make sure he feels terrible for putting me through this.”

Remy laughs before closing door, “Sure thing, kitten. And while I’m at it, I’ll tell him you had a little morning sickness too.” He knocks on the wooden door frame and leaves Charles alone.

Charles sinks to floor after he’s alone again, back to the door and the party and the guests…

It was naive, he reasons, to think that his past would never turn up again. He knows Erik has searched for him, using the name Charles Xavier. Erik wouldn’t find anything. Nothing but the birth record of a lost blue-blood child. No school records, no hospital records… Charles was kept in isolation for so long. Private tutors and doctors for as long as he could remember.

And he was adopted legally by the time he was three. Charles Francis Xavier became Charles Marko. There were no more Xaviers and Charles grew up being told that by his step-father while he pressed his real name close to heart and hid it away, waiting for the day he’d be old enough to reclaim it.

But that day never came.

And now he’s someone else entirely. Again.

 

 


	7. Quiet and Still

 

Charles closes his eyes and thinks of the years that led up to him running away.

His stepfather was the only father Charles had ever known. His mother had died shortly after marrying the man. They were never close, and Charles learned early on that Kurt was a greedy and cruel man. He looked at Charles knowing the boy was the rightful heir to all his holdings, but because Sharon died suddenly without a will, all of her late husband’s estate fell to her new husband. The guardian of her only child. Charles grew up knowing the man was desperate to work around the few limitations Brian’s lawyers shielded his wealth with. From age five to twelve, Charles was treated like a prince. He sat on cushioned chairs and ate from gilded cutlery. He wore tailored clothes and his hair brushed down with a perfect part.

The few friends he had were servants in his grandfather’s large mansion. He was homeschooled by a stern-faced tutor. But the man melted when Charles answered correctly. Charles was often told he was a kind and soft-hearted boy. The cooks doted on him. The butler snuck him treats. The gardener played with him. His Ms. Nanny read him bedtime stories and held him close like she was his real mother. They threw him birthday parties in the staff kitchen. Praised him on his classwork. Comforted him when he was lonely.

Charles may not have had many friends his own age, but he thought the adults in his life more than made up for that. Then one sad morning he woke up to an empty house. The entire staff had been let go. Kurt Marko was unable to pay for their services. He learned later that Nanny had volunteered to stay on through a transition, but Kurt turned her away.

Charles hardly understood at the time, a rapid transition moved him from his beloved home to an expensive (and tacky) apartment on the other side of the country. There Kurt courted socialites in the day, showing off his pretty and polite young son. And at night… at night he gambled away what little wealth remained.

Until one day all he really had left was Charles.

And that was the start of it. At twelve years old, Charles was sent to the home of a lonely, rich old man and he screamed and screamed… and Kurt let it happen for an entire week.

Later, he told Charles not to cry about it. That working now was just more sensible than enrolling in a private school or finding another tutor. So it happened again and again until one of Kurt’s daytime affairs finally worked out. A gorgeous young woman who cooed over Charles and was easily dazzled by Kurt’s lies about his failing company. Kurt thought he was gaining a new cash cow. He staged a poker game in their apartment and told the men attending that Charles was up for grabs. A special treat to sweeten every pot. He won the first hand and forced Charles to demonstrate his new skills in front of the men. The game became more rowdy, the stakes higher and higher as the night wore on.

In the end, Charles earned Kurt the money to buy a new ring and the young woman became Mrs. Mallory Marko.

It took a few weeks for her to notice how lonely and tired and scared Charles was. She tried to befriend him and Charles thought she was a sweet young woman. Only nineteen and heiress of some kind of company, about to gain a huge trust fund on her twenty-first birthday. She was cute and good. And Charles thought she was a princess. A blind, kind-hearted princess.

It took her a few more weeks to notice the bruises that appeared just before Kurt lavished her with furs and diamonds. It was almost six months before she caught Charles, walking back to his own bed after attending to Kurt’s friend in the guestroom. She snuck him to the hospital that night and broke down, crying in the ER. Charles wouldn’t say who touched him or why. The doctors were going to send police to the apartment. When Charles and Mallory returned with police escort, they expected yellow tape and detectives. Instead they found Kurt and his rich friends. A barricade of their lawyers speaking in riddles. It was like a magic trick. They somehow made the whole thing go away and Mallory and Charles were locked in their rooms. Charles could only guest about how she would be punished, but he knew he wouldn’t survive the night.

Charles wrote a letter after packing a bag and taking a few dollars he’d saved from the tooth fairy. He snuck out his window and down the fire escape and tried not to look back on the horrible apartment. All he wanted was to go home.

A few days later, he found his real house on the cover of a magazine, covered in piss outside of a bus depot. He risked turning a page to find out the estimated worth of Graymalkin Estate was now 22 million dollars. It was for sell but no one wanted the beautiful property. The lousy magazine author called it, ‘the number 14 Haunted House in America’. Charles made up his mind then.

At the age of 13, Charles honestly believed he could earn that much money in short time and buy his home back. So he took ownership of his own body and sold what little skills he learned from Kurt’s tutelage and started saving.

He was beaten and robbed by the third week, then raped within a month. After a year of being on his own, he was about to give up and head back to Kurt. But [then Remy found him](http://archiveofourown.org/series/393337) and together they kept the worst of Johns at bay. Charles made peace with being casually violent, if only to keep himself and his friend safe.

Somewhere along the line he had changed so completely, it was like growing another head. He was Charles and Not Charles.

Not Charles was called Martin or Francisco. Not Charles once cut a man and stole his wallet knowing the man was about to go Christmas shopping for his little girls. Not Charles looked away when other people were hurt… Ignoring little redhead girls and beaten blind boys. Not Charles didn’t go back for Mallory and gave up on Remy.

* * *

 

At some point Erik comes to check on Charles himself. He collects Charles and takes him back out to the crowd, but only to say goodnight. He makes their excuses and takes his husband back to bed.

Charles lies in the bed, wondering if Erik believed his story about feeling ill. At the least, Erik leaves him alone. Asks after his health and lays beside him. One long-fingered hand rubbing soothing circles across Charles’s middle. Charles dozes off and wakes up to darkness and an empty bed.

His phone is flashing on the nightstand. A text alert forcing the phone to vibrate across the tabletop.

Charles sighs and checks its. He ends up smiling.

_“At the airport with the Madame. Tell your good-for-nothing husband to save me a piece of cake. Or I will break both your legs. Love Az.”_

Charles chuckles at the message before laying back down. At least Ororo is safe now. But what about Erik? Why did he sneak off in the middle of night?

Charles feels his heartrate kick up with a sudden panic. “That bitch,” he hisses out loud to no one. He kicks the covers off and gets up and throws on a robe before running out of the Villa.

What if Raven stayed behind to tell Erik the truth? What if Erik worked things out on his own? Charles has to know now. He won’t tolerate getting on a plane in the morning and spending twenty days on an Island with a man who thinks… whatever Erik will think after finding out about his past. He can see it now. Erik would make sweet, gentle love to him. Then get on his stupid phone and order hits and bombings without hesitation. Charles does not want that. At least, he doesn’t think he does. Not the murder and certainly not the look of pity he expects will be born from Erik knowing. Charles doesn’t want to be the sum of his fucked up childhood in anyone’s eyes. So everyone thinks he’s a whore and runaway. Fine. But he draws the line at being Kurt Marko’s Victim.

So what he wants now is to find Erik, and make sure the man isn’t actively murdering or intimidating someone.

What he finds is Erik in the empty ballroom. The guests have retired for the night; the cleanup will be saved for morning. Streamers and flowers litter the ground, and in the center, Erik sways slowly to no music. His grandmother in his arms.

Charles feels his heart get two sizes too big for his chest. He lingers outside and watches from the glass patio doorway as Erik bows after the soundless dance and offers his arm to escort Mona back to her room.

Charles can’t help the smile on his face. Erik loves what he thinks of as his. His family, his friends, his stupid sword collection. But he counts Charles amongst his possessions now and that thought drags the smile right off his face. Erik thinks like his grandmother. His sweet, old, psychopathic grandmother. He’s willful and vengeful and full of rage. Sometimes he’ll bend to make Charles happy, but Charles is sure Erik wouldn’t compromise his own uniquely bloody principles to leave Charles in peace.

“Feeling better?”

Charles sighs. He knows that voice and has no wish to deal with the man at the moment. “Much, doctor. I was just going back to bed.” He turns away without looking at the man but the doctor’s shadow is close behind him.

“I have a room here tonight…”

Charles rolls his eyes but keeps walking. “Good for you. Goodnight Dr. Essex.” The shadow hovers steadily over his shoulder so Charles changes direction, cutting through the lawn.

Essex keeps pace with him, practically breathing down Charles’s neck. “I was just catching up with an old friend from the party. You know Telford, of course?”

Charles stops his march to safety and slowly turns around. Essex stands behind him, staring with a smug look on his face. Charles tries to control what could become a very volatile situation if either of them make the wrong move. “Of course I know him. My husband and I have brokered deals with him before.” He smiles, “But I don’t believe Erik wants to do business with him anymore. We’re cashing out of the rare antiquities market, you understand.” And the side fucks, goes unsaid but Charles hopes it is implied.

Essex smiles, and on the outside he’s a charming, handsome young man. With fantastic hair. But Charles looks in his eyes and sees the filthy, privileged bastard lurking underneath. A person so use to getting what he wants that he thinks little of risking his own neck to paw a crime lord’s spouse.

“So if you’d just excuse me. It is my wedding night after all.”

“One moment,” says Essex. He reaches out with his hand and takes Charles by the elbow. “I’ve been thinking about investing in _your_ line of work, Professor.” He leers at Charles, “And Telford seemed to think you’d be amendable… to sell me something truly precious.”

Charles yanks his arm away and steps back. He takes in his surroundings. The decorations for the wedding still up. The improvised seating… “Hardly. Everything I have now is also Erik’s.   You’d have to ask _him_ , first.” He smirks. “And he’s no longer inclined to share his rarities.”

“Ah,” replies Essex. “Complicated metaphor, is it not?” He shakes his head, laughing while he throws his hand up. “Why can’t we just be straight with each other, Simon. Professor.” He tries looming over Charles, but Charles keeps back. “Why can’t we just say I want to fuck you, and I know you want to fuck me, too. You’ve been looking.” He smirks.

Charles’s lip curls in disgust, “Are you insane? I loathe you. You’re… you’re slimy! I want nothing to do with you. All I cared about was getting Erik well again.”

“In that case,” he smiles, “I think I deserve a reward.” He steps into Charles’s space and grabs him roughly by the shoulders. Charles doesn’t struggle in the man’s grasp.

“I’m giving you to the count of three to let me go. One.”

Essex laughs, “Uh oh! I’m in trouble now!” He keeps laughing. “What if I pay you double your regular… ah fee? What exactly does an academic moonlighting as a whore charge?”

“Two.” Charles looks to the ballroom. By now Erik would have seen his grandmother tucked away and probably headed back for bed. The empty bed growing cold without Charles. Charles closes his eyes. “And you’re missing your chance to run away.”

Essex huffs, “Come now, Simon. You aren’t made for threatening people, I can tell. You’re like a small dog that barks too loud. What you need,” he says as he hands come up to Charles’s neck. A light squeeze before he pulls the back of Charles’s hair, “Is a better trainer.”

“Three,” says Charles as he remembers the first time he broke a man’s nose. He strikes up with the open palm of his right hand, and Essex falls to the ground.

“Fuck!” Essex scrambles in the grass but Charles grabs him by the head, holds him by the hair as he brings a knee up to slam in Essex’s face. The man cries out and sounds just like the first man did, nasal and whizzing.

Charles remembers the first time he broke someone’s arm. It was a hard sight to stomach in the broad daylight, but the man had tried to steal his money. So Charles does what he did then. He takes Essex by the wrist and twists, then pulls and bends the arm at the wrong angle. The sound of cracking bone and sinew is sickening. Charles remembers how he threw up the first time he saw bone like this.   That won’t happen tonight, though.

“My fucking arm! You little cunt!” Essex hobbles away his arm hanging uselessly. He reaches in his pocket and pulls out a scalpel. “You fucking whore! I can’t...” He looks like he’s about to pass out. Charles thinks of just walking away and leaving the man to doctor himself. But Essex is set on making Charles pay. He charges forward with the scalpel.

Charles remembers the first time he cut a man. One who insisted Charles should get in his car, sans payment. It was the man’s own knife then, too. Charles catches Essex by the arm wielding the scalpel and spins. The doctor’s momentum hurls both of their bodies to the ground. There, Charles yanks away the scalpel while Essex is winded. He straddles the larger man’s chest and holds the knife to his throat. His leg stretches out to pin down Essex by his good wrist. “All you can afford from me is some good advice.”

Charles keeps a good grip on Essex’s neck while he cuts a straight line across the handsome face. Charles can’t say with certainty that the first man he injured likewise is still living. He supposed at the time he wasn’t too concern about the man walking away with his injuries. In his juvenile rage, he just sliced and sliced until the man stopped. Now he’s much more restrained. Charles is practically artistic when it comes to leaving permanent marks.

“Firstly,” he starts cutting another, this one across the nose. “You aren’t much to look at. There’s not enough character in your face, sir. I recommend you build some.” He slices again, a thin cut under Essex’s mouth. “Secondly, you sinister prick.” He gives Essex cut under his chin. Then one along his perfectly square jaw. “You shouldn’t assume such things about academics. They have all sorts of hobbies.” Charles grins down while scratches into the man’s forehead. He carves out a bloody diamond on the doctor’s forehead.

When he’s finished, Charles’s takes in his work, his body straining to hold all the man’s muscle down. Essex thrashes and thrashes before his eyes roll back and he passes out. Either from shock or blood loss or both. Charles smirks down at the man before he stands up. He wipes the blood off the knife on his robe and throws it down near Essex on the lawn.

So much for not making a scene.

Charles sighs as he starts back for the villa. At least he’ll have a more interesting story to tell in the future. Remy might prattle on about how Charles almost fainted walking down the aisle. Charles can smile at future listeners as he retells how he almost killed a man.

* * *

 

Erik sneaks into the room and tucks himself in without a word.

Charles holds his breath before relaxing and trying to feign sleep.

Hopefully Erik knows nothing about the doctor yet.

Erik sighs, his arms wrap around Charles’s waist. He squeezes as he gets more comfortable. Charles is chilled from the cold shower he took, but Erik doesn’t seem to mind. He tucks his face in the space between Charles’s neck and the pillow and kisses just under the hairline. “Mm,” he hums. Charles breaths easier for a second before Erik gives him a little lick to the back of the neck. Then he whispers, “Why is Nathaniel Essex bleeding out on the front lawn?”

Charles’s eyes snap open.

Apparently, Erik knows everything about the doctor.

Charles turns in Erik’s arms and feigns sleepiness. “What was that, darling?”

Erik chuckles, his hands pinching Charles on the ass. “You hear me, Freckles. My little bruiser. Why is Nathaniel Essex bleeding out in the grass where all of the Worthington socialites can see him? Hm?” He raises a brow like he expects Charles to tell a lie. Like he’s talking to a child.

Charles pulls away. He remembers their promise and right now he doesn’t intend to lie. “He started it.”

Erik bursts into laughter. He flops on his back and guffaws until there’s not a breath in his body. “Tell me,” he gasps between laughs, “Tell me he deserved it at least. Tell me you didn’t just feel the need to cut someone up.” He whizzes and starts up again.

Charles backs out of the bed stares down at Erik, disbelieving. “You don’t care? Now I almost feel sorry for the man.”

“But you don’t.”

“No, I don’t,” admits Charles. “He’s a terrible person. But I’m sure you already know that.”

Erik nods and stretches out in the bed, taking up the space Charles just vacated. Charles sits down on the edge, less afraid of Erik’s reaction now, but still unsure.

“He came on to me all the time at my apartment. You were right there in the next room and he didn’t care. What kind of man does that?”

Erik shrugs, “Nat’s not a people person. He’s a… well he’s like you.” Charles frowns and starts to get up but Erik grabs his hand. “Wait, wait. I mean it. He’s someone from different circumstances and just remade himself, evolved to fit his position. He could be a legit doctor or researcher, curing sick babies and wearing lab coats. But he followed a completely different path in life and became my uncle’s personal concierge. Aside from his cancer treatments, Essex handled black business affairs too. Interrogations, dismemberments, drugging…”

“That doesn’t excuse what he is or what he does!” Careful, thinks Charles. He feels like he sliding a noose around his own neck. Comparing his own sins to sad backstory ratio is probably a slippery slope. “He tried to assault me tonight. No amount bad luck in his life can excuse him for trying to rape me! Honestly Erik—”

Erik shushes him, “Calm down. I’m right here. It’s okay. You dealt with him masterfully, I understand.” He pulls Charles back in the bed. Erik maneuvers Charles until the younger man is laying on his front. Then starts to massage his back and shoulders. “My little bruiser indeed. I’m thinking we should get you professional lessons in something. Boxing? Martial arts? You have a natural talent. Like a snake… no. Like a snake killer. Like a mongoose!”

Charles tries to sit up but Erik pushes him back down. He finally lays still and accepts the strong hands kneading his tired muscles. “You saw?”

“I once saw video of them fighting an alligator… oh you mean you?” He smiles sleepily at Charles. “Mmhmm. Alex and I were just checking the security cameras. The staff here is wearing blinders while we clean up. He’s not dead, you know. Hank is probably attending him now.”

That doesn’t really make Charles feel better. “I just want to go sleep. Can we go far, far away from all this?” And far away from Mallory and any potential to expose him. Before she showed up, Charles had a few moments to imagine a new life for himself. Free of his past. Free of his struggle. Perhaps one day he could tell his rich, enterprising husband to look at a little mansion in New York… He could have made a new home that way. But now it feels too telling. He can’t risk giving Erik something like his home address while she lurks in their lives. It would all come out eventually.

Erik makes himself comfortable. They have a long flight in the morning and Charles envies the man’s ability to just lay there and sleep easily. Charles keeps his eyes shut, seeing the blood in his memory.

* * *

 

The honeymoon is not what Charles expected.

To begin with, he was stressed about Mallory (or rather Raven). Erik tried to start their morning with passionate love-making in bed. Charles passed on that. Erik tried to re-start their morning in the shower, the car ride, and the plane.   Charles passed on that as well.

The plane turned out to be a private charter and Charles spent most of the flight hiding in the lavatory. (In other news, Charles discovered he was afraid of flying and didn’t want to be anywhere near the windows.) He kept quiet and feigned illness the entire time, while reassuring Erik he’ll be fine before they landed. Erik kept pacing in front of the lavatory door, grumbling about something called the ‘mile high club’ and Charles just assumes it was syndicate business.

They’re joined by Armando, Angel, and Alex as security. Angel doesn’t seem to be upset about babysitting on an island. In fact, Charles imagines her joining them on their honeymoon is actually a reward for whatever work she just finished. She certainly looks like she’s on vacation. She’s all thin flowy dresses and oversized sunglasses. Alex is dressed a boy being sent to summer camp. He spends most of his time with Armando in the cockpit. Charles never sees Armando, too afraid to watch his friend fly their giant death trap.

They make two stops to refuel and Charles spends the layovers either sleeping or ignoring Erik’s advances. On the last leg of their trip he comes out of the lavatory to sit by Erik and tries to smile. It must look upsetting because Erik gets up and fetches a ginger ale and ice pack.

When they land six hours later, Erik keeps a concerned eye on his husband while he leads them through the tiny airport. Erik chose a quiet secluded resort that offers tiny Pacific islands for their guests to have total reign over.

Charles puts on pair of shades and a floppy hat, prepared to act like a tourist on TV. He’s surprised when he’s lead to a boat. “I’ve never been on a boat,” he tells them with a bright smile as they all board. Erik takes the helm and Charles loses his hat to the sea. (In other news, Charles discovered he gets seasick.) He spends the thirty-minute taxi to their island below deck, hugging a toilet.

When they settle at their final destination, Charles is sure he’s going to find another reason to throw up or feel ill.

Instead he finds a beach with perfect crystal white sand stretching out into perfect blue waters under a completely clear sky. It’s the most beautiful thing Charles has ever seen. He says as much as he tumbles off the boat. The sight reinvigorates him and he takes off, running along the beach before tripping and rolling around in the sand. Even that feels perfect. Erik lets him play in the sand and shallow water while their things are unloaded and sent away. Charles pays little attention. Angel laughs at him and offers sunscreen. “Believe me. Your lily-white ass is going to need this.”

He grins up at her and accepts it, “Help me make a sandcastle. I think I used to make them when I was… but I can’t remember how. Will you help me?”

She smiles at him and they play in the sand while the real grown-ups get things settled in. After building the World’s Most Perfect Sand Castle, Charles realizes he hasn’t even seen their rented home yet. “Are we staying in the jungle?”

Angel rolls her eyes, but she doesn’t stop smiling at Charles. She’ll probably tell their others she endured him acting like a kid, but she’s enjoying herself here with a friend and she can’t hide it. “You poor, city creature. It’s not a jungle. This place is remote, but it’s not wild. Not really. Someone designed it to look like this. Come on, let’s check out your digs. Erik’s rented this place before. After Magda’s husband died, we came up here with the kids for a few weeks.” She gets up and starts walking back towards the pier with the boat.

Charles follows and once there, notices everyone else has gone. He looks up and down and can’t identify any roads or paths. Still, Angel leads him to the green line of the forest or jungle or whatever it is. There’s no distinct path he can identify but she seems to know where she’s going. So Charles follows, looking at the trees. Palms, coconuts… he’s never been a _tree_ person, but they hold his interests now. The trees are alive. They’re full of birds and little animals, and things cawing, and snakes.

“SNAKE!”

“Charles come on,” Angel rolls her eyes again, “We’re almost there.”

Charles walks faster. This is worse than the hike, he thinks. But the invisible path they’re following opens up to a clearing. More crystal blue water in an unnatural, but beautiful lake. And in the center of it is a sprawling two-story house. Connected to the land by a rope bridge. Angel pulls him along the bridge and leads him to the front of the house. Alex is carrying a suitcase and greets them at the door. “Me and Armando are staying at the beach house. I was putting your things upstairs, ma’am.”

Angel grabs the suitcase. “Don’t. I’m not saying for all the screaming and bed-rocking. I’m keeping the boat. I’ve got some business along the islands to attend to.”

Alex nods but the suitcase back, “Sorry ma’am. I’ll put them where you want. Just get inside. Darwin and Erik are making our lunch. It smells fantastic.” He offers them a smile as he walks past them.

Angel shrugs, “I know how this is going to go. He and Darwin going to shake each sticks up on that beach. I’ve already made arrangements elsewhere to avoid all of you on this romantic getaway.”

Charles feels bad for her, but gets distracted by the interior. Glass walls leaves him feeling immersed with nature. Things are green and tan, thatched rugs, sleek modern furniture and indulgent draping white curtains at the windows and around the chairs. It feels heavenly and… he’s getting a boner just from looking around. “Where’s Erik?”

Angel leads him to the kitchen where Erik and Darwin and wearing matching aprons. “Aw there you, darling. You’ve got sand in your hair.” He comes over and brushes it out with his hand before kissing Charles at the corner of his mouth. The kitchen smells like roasting meat and braising vegetables. Angel sits down at the marble counter where Darwin is chopping steaks.

Charles joins her, “We should have brought Gwen along. She would have loved this.” He tries as he looks at Angel.

She smirks at him, “What do you know about my girlfriend? I heard about that little quickie on your stag night. You’re lucky I don’t act like Azazel and break both your legs.”

“What quickie,” asks Erik with his back turned. Charles can tell just by the way his shoulders are set that’s he’s already imagining the kinkiest sex he could between the taller woman and Charles. Charles would let him, but he doesn’t want to endanger the girl.

“My first lap dance. I was horrible at it.”

Erik turns around and frowns. “You’re usually very good at those.” He seriously looks more concerned about Charles performance. “What happened?”

Angel and Darwin chuckle as Charles puts the older man’s mind at ease. “Nothing! I just sat there and got red in the face as she made fun me.” He smiles and looks to Angel, “She has terrible mean streak.”

“Don’t I know it.” They all laugh and Erik looks more at ease as turns back to his food.

When Alex returns they eat lunch and share their plans for the day. Angel lets them all know she’s about to take the boat to the next island to a friend. She’ll be back around night fall.

“Try not to injures yourselves while I’m gone. Radio if you need anything. I hope you brought your own lube, ‘cause I’m not turning around to run your errands.”

Alex and Darwin and leave to go ‘set up security precautions’ in the beach house. Erik waves them both off, “Go on, go on. Sneaking another couple’s honeymoon on my dime. The shame, Armando.” Darwin ducks his head but doesn’t hesitate to lead Alex out of the house.

When it’s finally just Charles and Erik, they sit across from each other at the dining table and smile.

Charles gets up first, “I feel so much better now. I must have had flu or something.” He tries to explain as he circles around to Erik and extends a hand. “Thank you for taking care of me, Erik.”

Erik narrows his eyes and looks Charles like he’s seeing through the lie. Before Charles can break out in a sweat the man gets up and kisses him quickly on the mouth. “I’m glad you feel better. You had me very worried there, Charles. I nearly had the caterers all killed.”

Charles barks out an uneasy laugh, “I hoped you wouldn’t do something so demented. What happens to me isn’t always someone else’s fault.” He leans up and wraps his arms around Erik’s neck. “I’ve taken care of myself for a long time. I don’t need you to be my nanny or watchdog or anything else. We have a deal, I think, to be honest with each other. If you ever, for one moment, look at me with pity in your eyes… I’m out the door, Erik. Honestly.” He swallows after the declaration and waits for Erik to respond.

Erik considers him before leaning down to sweetly kiss him on the head. “I need you in my life, but I don’t harbor for one second that you need me.” He says sadly. Charles hopes he’s imagining the tears in Erik’s eyes. He looks away but Erik holds his chin up. “Don’t worry about our deal. It still stands. As much I can stand to… not have you completely. But I am yours, Charles. Bought and paid for. Completely yours.”

“Oh shut up, Erik.” Charles tries to dismiss the random admission of love. It’s worse than the wedding vows, he thinks. There’s no audience here to justify it. Charles remembers the little declaration in villa after the wedding, but that was adrenaline talking. Emotions of the moment washing over both of them. It wasn’t real.

He pulls away, and tries to smile. Even as he wants to ball up and cry. “Come here, you. I want you to fuck me in every room, on every surface.” He starts to walk back to the living room towards that sexy chair, but Erik grabs him by the wrist.

“The bedroom, first. We have [twenty days and nights](http://archiveofourown.org/series/393337) to explore the whole island. The bedroom first, Charles.”

Charles licks his lips, “Whatever you want, Erik.”

Erik leads him by the hand, “You know that is not true for us, darling.” He smiles and takes Charles to the bedroom.

It’s in a room that faces the water, glass walls and an open door lets in the sound of nature outside. It’s a little warm compared to the rest of the house. Everything is white and gray and soft looking. Charles wants to flop on the bed but Erik takes him by the shoulders and leads him around the room first. He shows him the bathroom, with a large tub in the floor that looks like a pool, “Our next stop,” he grins. He shows Charles a walk-in closet. One side full of reasonable beach wear and silk pajamas and normal things. The other with racks of costumes. They all suspiciously appear to be Charles’s size. “Surprise. A special treat.”

“For who,” scoffs Charles. “I told you before, dressing up costs extra.” He pads over to one self. There’s a maid costume and a sailor costume, a doctor and a cowboy.   He shakes his head before turning back to Erik.

The man stands there, completely shameless. “I can afford it.”

Charles bites his lip and turns back to the clothing, “Later. I want to be myself for now.” Even as he says it, he questions it. He doesn’t know who he really is anymore. He feels like he’s holding on to the real Charles Xavier desperately by a thinning kite string. It’s going to snap one day and he’ll be lost forever.

But now is not the time for such morose thinking. He’s had plenty of that in the last few days and it just made him sick. He’s in a beautiful place, with a beautiful man by his side. To hell with all this existential crisis. He wants to fuck.

Charles turns back to Erik. “Get undressed. Get on the bed. And maybe… just maybe. Someone interesting will come out to play with you.”

Erik leaves the closet so fast, Charles imagines there’s cartoonish streaks on the hardwood floor.

That leaves him to pick out something in peace. His eyes naturally fall to something he thinks is fitting.

* * *

 

 

Erik’s initial laughter is not unexpected. “Honestly, Charles, I picked most of it out at random. I didn’t think you’d really wear _that_.”

Charles is not bothered by the man on the bed. He feels pretty. There’s still sand in his hair, but he cleaned up as best he could in the closet before he put on the sky blue, Disney princess dress. It even came with a little tiara and matching heels. Charles has experience walking in heels and he will never share where he learned it, but he walks gracefully to the foot of the bed and gives Erik a little curtsy. Never mind the fact that he has two days’ worth of stubble from traveling. He’s certain he’s a gorgeous sight.

Erik stops laughing to sit up. At least he did as he was told. He got naked saved Charles the hassle. He looks Charles up and down. “Are you wearing the whole outfit?” He asks like a man who remembers the specifics of something he _didn’t_ buy on purpose.

Charles raises an eyebrow and gracefully raises his skirt, “The whole thing.” He drops the skirt before Erik can get a peek of the silk and lace panties. Tonight, Charles will wear underwear. For however long Erik lets him keep them on.

By the next morning, the poor dressed is ruined and a silent ‘thank you’ is whispered to its tattered remains.

* * *

 

The Honeymoon Proper was twenty nights of dress up, confessions, and romantic surprises.

When they return to civilization, Charles is marked, and happy about it.

Everything in the world has realigned. His problems from almost a month ago all seem so small. Suddenly he doesn’t think Mallory will betray him. He did ask her not to after all. And Erik isn’t keen on digging into his pasts. He may still get away with squirreling away money or flat out asking for Graymalkin.

Charles is just unpacking in his apartment. He insisted in keeping their primary living arrangements separate while riding Erik’s cock back at the island. Erik agreed to his terms then, only to grumble as they got off the plane when Charles asked Azazel to drive him home.

They kissed in the car, and said their goodbyes. Made an agreement to meet in the morning for breakfast at the hotel. Erik has a lot of business to attend to and Charles has a light sunburn the back of his calves to take care. He smiles thinking of how he got burned on the last day and shakes his head. “ _That was more fun than I thought it would be_ ,” he thinks.

He’s getting ready to take a shower and shave when there’s a knock to his door. Charles sighs and wraps up in a robe before going to the living room. He checks the CCTV on the big screen. If it’s not important, he’ll just ignore whoever it is and go soak.

Standing in his hallway is five uniform officers and a handful of trench coat wearing officials. A woman at the front of the pack raises a badge in the direction of the camera. She speaks into the intercom, “Simon Lehnsherr? Is your husband home?”

Charles turns off the screen and stands there frozen.

“Simon!” Calls the woman from the door. “I know you’re in there!”

Charles laughs a little to himself. “ _Of course it’s the cops. Of course it the fucking cops. Almost seven years without an arrest and now I have the cops at the fucking door.”_ He slumps as he tries to put think of what to do. Erik and Azazel gave him a specific protocol to follow.

First, Call Erik.

He moves to the bedroom and dials Erik’s phone. It goes straight to voicemail.

Fuck, he thinks. Second, Call Erik’s Lawyer.

He calls that number and it’s answered by a familiar voice. “Warren Worthington,” says the man.

“Hello,” says Charles. “ I’m Simon Lehnsherr. Erik told me to call…”

“Charles,” says the man. “We suspected they would get to you next. Don’t worry. They don’t have a warrant and can’t enter your home. Just sit tight until Alex gets up there.” He hangs up and Charles sits down on his bed.

He turns on the smaller TV and checks the security camera again. The crew of cops are turned to Alex, flashing badges and posturing. Alex appears unmoved by whatever they’re saying. He just shakes his head and points to the elevator. When the cops turn to leave, the woman leading them comes back to the door and slips a card under it. Alex gets huffy then, pointing to the elevator while barring his teeth.

When it’s safe to come out, Charles goes to the door and lets Alex in. He steps on the card as he does so.

“What the hell was that!? Where’s Erik!?”

“Calm down, sir.” Alex closes and locks the door behind him. “He’s being arraigned on trumped up charges. They’re saying he re-entered the country illegally or some crap. They’ve tried this before because he was born in Poland. They’re just trying hold him while they dig around for evidence. It’s happened before, and nothing will come from it.”

Charles lets out a sigh of relief, but his body still feels tight. There’s pain thumping at the back of his head now. He’s so anxious he could scream. “Is Erik all right? Is he in jail?”

“He’s being held at the station downtown. They’re questioning him before his lawyer gets there. But it’s going to be okay, Charles. Just do whatever you were going to do and relax. They can’t touch Erik. Not really. He’s too good for that.” He nods as he speaks, like that’s reassuring. He at least believes his own words and seems to think Charles would find that comforting.

Charles does not. Instead he frets and frets and he paces his living room. “You want to pretend this isn’t happening? What if Erik goes to prison or something? What if they take him away from me!?”

Alex stands taller, hands behind his back like he’s been trained in the military. “Then I will do my upmost to take care of you, sir. And Erik will… Erik will do his best to get back to you. No matter what. You can believe that, sir.”

Charles wants to believe the young man’s sincerity. He’s sure he and Alex are about the same age. But he can’t trust that Alex really knows how bad this is. He blindly worships Erik, after all. He could think the man can fix anything when in reality Erik is being sized for an orange jumpsuit.

Charles shakes his head and raises a hand to nervously bite nails. He catches himself in the act and thinks of Erik before he balls his hands into fists and cries out.

Alex lets him storm off. Charles goes to his room and slams the door, feeling completely opposite of the high he had on the plane. He goes in the bathroom and climbs in the shower. He tries to scrub away his worry, but only manages to agitate the burns on his legs.

When he comes out he towels off and slips into one of Erik’s sweatshirts. He flops on the bed. He closes his eyes and tries to find sleep.

It doesn’t come easily and Charles has to fight off nightmares. After his fourth or fifth time waking in the middle of the night he gets up and leaves the room.

Alex has left him, probably returned to his post downstairs. The living room is dark and quiet. Charles wraps his arms around himself and pads to the kitchen. On the way he steps on the card of the police woman.

_Special Agent Moira McTaggart, CIA…_

Charles curls his lip in disgust, “Fucking cops!” He balls the little embossed card up and tosses it into the darkness. “Years and years without a word and now you show up!” It’s not fair he thinks. All those times he was hurt. All the times he really needed police intervention. The night he ran away… And now. Now the civil servants show up at his doorsteps, intending to do their job.

Charles hates cops. He hates the CIA and the FBI and the other acronyms too. In the morning he’s going to call everyone he can and find out what’s going on. If Erik doesn’t keep their breakfast date, Charles is going to break into where they’re holding him and fight every last crooked, badge toting bastard. He promises this to himself as he reaches into his fridge and pulls out a carton of juice.

He’s just turning around when a glove-clad hand covers his mouth.

He kicks out his leg and tries to drag his attacker to the ground with him, but whoever is behind him is tall and strong. There’s a sharp prick and soon nothing but darkness.

* * *

 

Charles wakes up in someone’s bed.

He’s still wearing Erik’s sweatshirt, and only Erik’s sweatshirt. He sits up quickly and makes his head swim. Still, he thinks. He rather be dizzy than completely exposed. He pulls his legs up, tucking them in the shirt as he wraps his arms around himself. His vision is a little blurry so he pauses to take in his surroundings.

He’s in someone’s bed. It’s not his. He knew that when he woke up because it doesn’t feel like his. It doesn’t smell like Erik. The light is all wrong.

The room is dim. It appears to be four smooth, black walks. A single flickering light on the ceiling. Charles could call out, but he knows from way too many movies that’ll get his captors attention.

He doesn’t want any attention just yet.

He stays on the bed and gathers as much information about the bleak room as he can. The bed is old. There’s plenty of ways to tie him down to it, but he’s not restrained. The floor looks carpeted. But there a square patch cut out in the far corner. Charles frowns at it. Perhaps this some kind of attic and that’s the only way out. He’s been left untied so whoever took him knows he can reach that door. Meaning it doesn’t matter if he does so. It probably locked from the other side. And trying to open it will just alert whoever snatched him.

The bed is covered in a thin quilt and the room is not cold, it’s not uncomfortable for a half-naked man to lay in. So its getting air from somewhere. Charles looks around at the floorboards without getting up. No visible vents, so it must behind him. He turns his neck and finds nothing above, so it must be below. Under the bed.

Charles sighs. He didn’t want to get up just yet, but he had to eventually.

He’s been snatched a few times in his life.

The first time by a man that drove him for hours and hours. They stopped periodically in big store parking lots. Charles was dragged out the trunk and held down in the backseat. It happened on and off for almost two days. He was dumped with his things outside a K-mart, miles away from where he was picked up.

The second time, he nearly died. Remy had taken him a party to get his first drink for his fifteenth birthday. He was given a drug and passed around by a few college boys until Remy found him. They changed cities and didn’t speak of it again. It sparked their kick to get straight and find real work and that led them to the rest of their shared misfortune.

The third time was with Sebastian Schmidt.

And now.

Charles doesn’t know who taken him, but suspects it only happened because Erik visibly out of the picture. Whoever did this think the mob boss can’t retaliate or find his new husband.

They haven’t considered that Charles has learned from every experience. And right now, there’s not much in this world left to scare him. Except snakes, deer, and rats. Maybe roaches. If they’re really big. But he’s not scared of men. Men he can fight.

He takes a deep breath before climbing off the bed and checking under it. There’s a small covered vent there, quietly pumping out warm air. It too small for him to fit through. He puts his ear to it and hears nothing. There’s no way out there, but it is another opening. He considers it for later.

Then turns his attention back to the door.

He’s ready to check it and find out who’s holding him captive this time.

There’s a small pull ring on end of the trap door. Charles tries it, gently. It gives with the barest effort and rises up. Charles looks down, surprised by this turn. But he knows better than to trust it.

Below is an unlit staircase. The darkness is a reason for concern. Charles doesn’t want to try going down and find a trap waiting for him at the bottom.

And of course it’s all a trap. An elaborate, horrible trap. Which will only end with Charles being ransomed, raped or killed. Or all of the above. He’s in no hurry to die, but he’s faced his own death many times now. He just wishes he had had more clothes on. He sighs, thinking it’s too late to start believing in underwear.

Charles flips the door and carefully takes his first step down. There’s not much to hold on to. A thin railing feels loose and ready to give out as he makes his way down. This new room looks more like a proper attic. Its full of dust and odd crates on either side of the staircase. There’s a door at one end of the room and a circular window high up on back wall. Its blacked out with paint, not allowing sun or moonlight in.   Charles snarls at the thing before turning back to the door.

“Fuck,” he thinks to himself. The trapdoor was nothing, but this will definitely get someone’s attention. He moves to it slowly and stops just out to the side. The hinges are in back so the door opens into room. Charles carefully stands to where the door will block him. He keeps a hand ready slam the door back in his captor’s face. He shifts his footing. Adopts a more fight ready stance. He takes a deep breath before trying the handle.

Unlike the top door, it doesn’t give. Charles could desperately try and try, but he doesn’t. He backs away and leaves the door alone.

Whoever took him will have to see him sometime. Either to feed him, give him an evil monologue, or kill him. Charles can wait. Charles can wait and be ready to act when the time comes.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry Henry. I love your face, but Essex needed to learn a lesson.


	8. Arraignment

If Erik were the kind of man who worked nine to five and had a 401K this wouldn’t be happening. If Erik were a poor artist struggling to pay back students loans while working on minimum wage, this wouldn’t be happening. If Erik was only a small-time criminal selling dime bags or, for fucks sake, hustling on a bloody corner… this would not be happening.

But Erik is of course a Big Fish. And Charles followed him into a big pond or lake, or ocean. Something big and wet and dangerous. And like all the big spawning fish that swim up river just for a quick fuck, they’ve made themselves easy targets for predators. Some bear has snatched Charles mid-leap and intends to maw on him while Erik is caught in some fishermen’s net.

And Charles wonders if the drugs that knocked him out have impaired his thinking.

It doesn’t matter, he thinks.

He can be high and still figure a way out of this. Whoever’s taken him doesn’t know how good he is at improvising. Chances are they aren’t betting on him to fight back. They’re looking for a professor or a kept boy or something. Not bare-knuckle fighting, cutter.

Charles climbs back up the stairs quietly and checks the room again. It’s still just four black walls and a rickety old bed. The vent in the wall under the bed, still pumping out warm air. Charles walks around the room, his fingers sliding across the wall checking for catches. There’s no seams or secret doors. No place to hide a camera. Nothing helpful. He’s just locked up in a room. With a single swinging light bulb.

Charles stops in front of the bed and looks up at the bulb. He smiles before moving back onto the bed. He’s thought of at least four ways to defend himself while exploring this room and the one below. But he needs something to act against. Something to put his plans in motion. But the bastard that took him isn’t making things easy. Charles has to wait and wait. He only hopes he doesn’t have to go to bathroom or eat before the kidnapping coward finally shows his face. Perhaps this person isn’t watching Charles. Perhaps they don’t realize he’s awake.

Charles sighs on the bed. “Idiots.” He clears his throat and angles his head towards the vent. “Help!   Somebody help me! I’ve been taken! Help! Please! Someone call the cops!”

Charles reaches back to bang on the walls for effect. He stops and listens.

The door downstairs doesn’t make a sound so Charles gets up and stomps around a little. The question of whether he’d have to pee or eat before they paid him any attention is answered. Charles feels he can hold his pee a while longer, but his stomach is growling after he paces some more.

He pulls open the trapdoor and goes to the door downstairs. He tries the lock again, then knocks hard on the door. “Help! Please! Someone help me!”

“Shut the fuck up in there!” Charles starts but he doesn’t back away. He braces himself for a fight instead. The voice sounds familiar. An old woman’s voice. Charles frowns as she screams at him through the door. “Stand back, you little cunt. I’ll shoot you in your pretty face before I just let you hit me.”

Charles sighs. “Mrs. Gregorivich.”

How in the world did he end up here? Charles takes several steps back. Makes himself ready to take cover behind one of the crates. Mrs. Gregorivich opens the door and stands there with a shotgun in her skinny old arms. She’s even dragging her oxygen tank around today. She looks frail and sickly. But Charles knows better than to fuck with this particular old woman. She whizzes as she points her gun at him. “Martini, my little slut.” She smiles at him with her false teeth. “Be a good boy and come give Mummy a kiss.”

Charles crosses his arms. She always liked it before when he misbehaved. She has a thing about paddling him. Charles hopes that’s as far she’ll go punishing him now. She might hold the murder of her son against him personally… Kidnapping him certainly feels antagonistic. He doesn’t doubt the old woman would shoot him in the face. “Mummy, no.” He says petulantly. “Did you bring me here? And leave me up there? I’m starving and I have to go to the bathroom.” He crosses and uncrosses his legs. “Please, let me go. If you wanted to play mahjongg or something, you could have asked before you kidnapped me.”

The old woman laughs and rests the gun in the croak her arm. She takes her tank and wheels back. “Welcome to my halfway house for wounded thugs, Martini. Come and say hi to one of my tenants. He’s just dying to meet you.”

Charles frowns, “I don’t understand, ma’am. What’s going on? Please.” He begs with his eyes, “Just tell me what you want from me and I’ll be a good boy. You know how I like to see you smile.” He smiles at her and expects a smile in return.

He doesn’t expect her to raise a middle finger, “Fuck off, you little smooth-talking slut. Now, get out of there before you’re dragged out!”

Charles narrows his eyes and considers using her own medical hoses to kill her. “Alright, Mummy. Whatever you want.” He starts to step out of the room when a large familiar man grabs his shoulder. His face is puckered and scarred on one cheek. He yanks Charles by the hair and drags him along the dimly lit hallway. Charles goes along with it, “Nice to see you too, Nevan. Looking good, old man.”

The man shakes him as they reach a staircase. Charles thinks about attacking them both, but there’s no telling how many thugs are in the house. He goes along with them haltingly. He knows this house, but he’s never been allowed further than the kitchen, a guestroom room, and her bedroom. On the way down Mrs. Gregorivich turns and looks up at the few steps ahead of her. She bends and tilts her head. “I see you still don’t like your tighty whities, Martin.” She reaches to fondle him and Charles squirms while Nevan holds him still. The old bony fingers claw at his bare thighs before she turns away.

The old woman cackles like a witch and Charles is reminded of how he used think of a thousand ways to end her, but needed her. Without her, he wouldn’t have had an apartment. Remy would have been killed and forgotten in some frat house. He hates the disgusting old bat. But he hated her son more. At least she was never boring. And never really hurt Charles while putting him through his paces. This kidnapping has to be because Arkady Gregorivich died bloody somewhere under Erik’s heel.

The old woman leads them to a parlor and tells him to sit.   “Stay put. I’ll but the kettle on.” She gives him a tight smile before exiting.

Charles squirms and looks up to Nevan. “Could we pop into a toilet? I don’t mind you watching.”

Nevan pushes him roughly towards a chair. “You can piss yourself for all I care. Sit down!”

Charles sits and crosses his legs. He’ll have to re-evaluate the situation now. He hasn’t been taken just by Erik’s enemies, but apparently his own. Honestly, he hardly thought of the Omega Red gang and their leadership. Erik _had_ said he killed them all. Apparently that did not include no-face giants and little old murderesses.

Charles sits and waits, not knowing what to expect next.

He almost falls out of the chair when the old woman returns, escorted by three men.

Standing to the right, recovering from his recent scarring is Nathaniel Essex. The diamond shape scar in the center of his forehead looks red and inflamed. His face is crisscrossed in bandages on his nose, cheeks, and chin. His right arm is in a cast, hung up in a bright red sling. He’s dressed in an immaculate suit and his superior wavy hair is perfectly combed and gel. But nothing can distract from the bruising around his eyes and how his once beautiful face is puffy after Charles’s attack. He’s probably mending but he won’t be pretty in the end.

And sitting propped up in a wheelchair to her left is Sebastian Schmidt. He’s being pushed by the handsome man; Charles recalls he is called Janos. His whole body is limp and still. His pointy head is secured at the headrest. He’s pale and skinny. And Charles can’t say for sure, but he thinks the man is wearing a rather unattractive wig for some reason. Perhaps his injury caused his hair loss. He’s hardly the blustering man that thought he could just take Charles before. How he’s done it again with zero mobility, is a wonder.

Charles stares at them all with his mouth gaping open. “Fuck,” is all he manages to say.

Sebastian laughs, his chest heaving while the rest of his body remains immobile. Janos presses a button on the chair, leaning it forward a little so the man can look at Charles.

“Si! Long time no see!”

Charles would never admit to anyone that he’s the kind of man who faints.

His eyes roll back and his vision whites out as the surreal nightmare goes blessedly blank.

* * *

 

 

When Charles next opens his eyes he finds he can’t move. He’s strapped, face down to the old woman’s kitchen table. He struggles against the bonds for a moment. There’s no give in his restraints.   He’s still wearing Erik’s sweatshirt, but with his bare legs spread open, so it’s hardly any comfort. The lacy table cloth feels itchy under his skin. Charles scrapes his knees trying to sit up anyway.

A sudden swat surprises him and he cranes his neck. He can just make out Mrs. Gregorivich and her paddle. “He’s awake!”

Charles chokes on his own fear. He doesn’t know if he’s been set up for violation or torture. He chews on the gag in mouth in vain.

A pinch to his ass makes him go still. The old woman chuckles, “That’s a good boy. Be quiet while the doctor gets ready.”

Charles pants around the gag, “Ettthhaz?” He wonders if the man plans on disfiguring him before they all kill him. Charles can’t see him but he can hear metal things clacking in the background. He tries to calm himself down. He’ll only bleed out faster if his heart rate is up, he reasons.

A mechanical whirring hails the coming of Sebastian’s chair. The man whirls around to face Charles. They’re almost at eye level. “I bet you’re wondering what happened to me.”

Charles rolls his eyes. He feels a dramatic account coming on. He’s not in the least bit interested.

“So you left me hanging, Si. Literally. Locked me out of that hovel. Murdered all my men, save Janos and poor Nevan. I had to use all of my considerable strength to pull up on that damn window sill. By the time I did, the cops were around the fucking corner. I saw you and your boyfriend running away, like a pair of yellow rats. Then, just as I figured I could break the window and climb back in, some cowardly shit in the Brotherhood shot me in the back. I fell, naturally. And landed on my neck. It’s a wonder I’m not dead.”

It’s a pity, thinks Charles.

“In the end, Nevan woke up in my car and found me on the ground before the cops did. He got me out of there. Fortunately, I retain one hell of a local doctor.”

Charles listens and listens and comes to one conclusion. This man loves the sound of his own voice.

Janos comes around and wheels him away, but Charles can still hear him. “Dr. Essex seemed surprised to learn the truth of you, Simon. Or Martin. Whatever the fuck your name is. I’ve long since thought that vermin like you spawn in the gutters and multiply without proper cleaning.”

“My poor, Starling.” Cries Mrs. Gregorivich. “He was so good at keeping a clean neighborhood. All the tramps and refuse seem to settle at my front door.” She circles around to Charles and yanks his hair, “Like your friend. That thieving little punk would have stolen my good China if I let him in here.”

Charles pulls away, trying to put as much distance between them as he can. There’s little he can do while on the table. She knots her hand in his hair slams his head into the table. Charles cries out and the old woman laughs.

“And by the way. You weren’t that good a lay! Minute Man!”   The men in the room breakout into laughter.

Charles exhales through his nose. “ _Just kill me now_ ,” he thinks.

The old woman claws his lips with the nails of one hand, “Now that mouth is another story… He wasn’t faking that, I’m sure!” She and the others laugh again at Charles.

“ _I’ve basically been a nice guy,”_ thinks Charles. “ _I’ve never really killed anyone. I don’t think. I didn’t steal from the poor. I don’t think. Erik… Erik where are you? I take back everything I ever said about controlling your anger. Come get me. Kill all those fucking cops and come get me.”_

“Why’s he so quiet, Natalia? Did you knock him out?” Asks Sebastian.

The old woman leans down to look Charles in the eye, “He’s still in there.   Proceed, Doctor.” She stands up straight, “I’ve always wanted to be a nurse.

“Nurse,” says what sounds like Essex. His voice is different, more nasal and snarly. “If you’d please prepare the patient. We could get started.”

Charles feels cold bony hands slide down his back, and then up his sweatshirt. They pinch his sides until he squirms, which only elicits more laughter from the villains. Charles feels cool air on his lower back. He wants to curl up and protect himself, but there’s nothing he can do. “ _Erik, please_.” Charles wonders if he’s praying. It never used to work, but still. “ _Erik, please. Please.”_

Schmidt wheezes, “The good doctor here assures me you’d be a decent match for my kidney problem.” He wheels around to Charles to look him in the eye, “It’s only fair. You took my legs. I harvest your organs. Tit for tat.”

“And then we’re gonna kill you,” says Nevan helpfully from one corner.

Charles frowns and looks to Schmidt who only confirms after a long sigh. “And then we’re gonna kill you, Si.” He looks at his man across the room, “Honestly, what part of ‘it’s a surprise don’t you get!”

“Dark meat. Light meat. Soft, pink white meat.” Mrs. Gregorivich is cackling while she rubs Charles’s back down with something cold and spongy. “You are a solid little thing! Such a waste!”

Essex pushes her away, “That’s all nurse.” He circles the table and with a tray of medical instruments. “I’d like to start with a pre-op summary if you don’t mind. I’m still a professional, you understand. I owe all of my clients the same duty of care and quality of work.” He gestures to his bad arm with his left hand, “It’s a little harder these days, but I’ve plenty of hands to help today. I expect the procedure to be completed in about fifteen minutes. I’ll simply cut you a little deeper than you did me. Then instead of sewing you up…”

“I should have taken off the table cloth,” muses the old woman.

Charles looks between Schmidt, the old woman, and Mr. Sinister. They’re like something from a bad dream and Charles wants desperately to wake up. His plans for escape earlier did not include this house and these people. What he needs is to live long enough to take them all out, one at time. Right now he could use a distraction. Something to pause all their comic villain monologues. So he laughs.

“What was that?”

Charles laughs into his gag, chortles for all he’s worth. Tries to look as though he’s having a hell of time being tied up with his ass in the air. Hell it’s happened before, he reasons. He laughs harder and finally that piques Sebastian’s interest.

“Get that off of him. Let’s find out what’s so funny.”

Quick hands untie him from behind and Charles sighs as he tries to think of something to say. Anything that will hold their interest. “First of all, my name is not Simon. Or Martin. You idiots. Its… Its Francis. Do me a favor and don’t put that on my tombstone.” He giggles, “And second of all, you do realize Erik owns me? Bought and paid for, right?”

Essex scowls, “That doesn’t matter, sweetheart. Lehnsherr is going to prison for murdering Emma Frost. The case will open shut and no one going to come save you.”

The news about Erik strikes a chord in Charles, but he doesn’t drop his smile, “Erik married me to hold on to his money in the event of his incarceration. I have access to his bank accounts and vaults and everything, but he doesn’t trust me. You don’t think he just agreed to let his fuck toy hold on to his change purse?”

“What are you getting at, you little shit?” says Mrs. Gregorivich.

Charles laughs again, hoping to have their attention now. “Bought and paid for. Like a pet cat. And to assure I don’t wander off, as an academic moonlighting as a whore, he had me branded.” Charles wiggles his shoulders, “And I just bet you couldn’t find the tracker Hank gave me.”

The news sends the mobsters into a chaos. Mrs. Gregorivich blames Nevan, “You motherfucker! What did you bring down on my house!” She spins around and grabs Sebastian by the throat, “You said they couldn’t trace this shit back to me! They’ve already taken my son! My gang! Years and years of hard work down the shitter because you let this little imp con you, you spineless motherfucker!”

She starts to shake him roughly, and Janos and Nevan have to pull her off. Janos grabs her oxygen tank and turns a nob, causing her to choke while Nevan holds her still. Essex disappears and Sebastian looks like he’s about to pass out.

It’s going good, thinks Charles. Until Essex returns with a cooler.

“Calm down. Think about it, if he were telling the truth they would have stormed the door hours ago. Besides, anything Hank does has to go through me. He doesn’t keep anything from me. He’s completely dependent.”

Except, think Charles. Hank knows Charles’s real name. Or part of it. And he didn’t share that. There has to be… “Hank doesn’t tell you everything and I told Alex to leave me alone until Erik was free. No one would have bothered to go looking yet, but they will. They are. They’re probably on the way. Do you want them to find me here, Mummy? Cut up in your house? Do you want to die like your precious Arkady?”

“Shut your mouth! Gag him,” says Sebastian and Janos moves to do so.

“I can tell you where the bodies are, Mummy! You can lay your little Starling to rest!”

The old woman wails, high and piercing like a banshee. Nevan looks nervously between her and Schmidt, “She’s crying? Boss, I’ve never seen her do that before.”

Janos ignores them all and just gags Charles like he was told. He hovers over him, holding Charles’s shoulders down while Essex gives him a shot of something.

Mrs. Gregorivich thrashes in Nevan’s arms. “Get off me, you big turd! He knows where Arkady is! Get that thing off him! You tell me, you little slut! Where’s my son!”

Charles feels like fire is shooting down his lower back. Whatever Essex gave him, it’s not for the pain. He grumbles through the gag before Janos slams his head hard on the table. Sebastian orders Nevan to take Mrs. Gregorivich out of the room. Essex starts to make cut on lower back and Charles cries out again.

“Wait!” Screams Mrs. Gregorivich. When Nevan doesn’t release her, she reaches back and picks up her tank. She swings the thing like a bat and knocks out Nevan. Janos rushes to her and the woman pulls a knife out of her boot and holds it at Sebastian’s neck. “I said wait, you bunch of cocksuckers! Put that knife down, doctor!”

Essex sighs but stops cutting into Charles. Charles sighs in relief but that’s shaken when Janos finally speaks, “He’s lying. I know the people who took your son had him melted down in acid. Nevan and I are the only ones who survived.”

Sebastian is helpless, looking between his man and the old woman, “Right, Janos told me everything! Lehnsherr and his Brotherhood covered their tracks. They didn’t leave a trace of your son behind. There’s no bodies, Natalia. Its just me and my money. And this sneaky kitten who apparently has access to Erik’s fortune,” he smiles. “Think about that.”

The old woman pulls away, then points the knife at Charles and Essex. “All the Brotherhood money? Lehnsherr is probably sitting on millions from those hotels and gun running.” A broad smile splits her wizen face, “And you got what? All of his pin numbers? Passcodes? Where?”

Janos helpfully removes the gag so Charles can answer, “Legally. Erik doesn’t just hoard money away in mattresses. He’s smart about everything he does. He cut a deal with me to marry him. I legally inherit and hold all his investments with a clean name he gave me. No one can trace my history to criminal wrongdoing or take _my_ money. The Brotherhood puts money in the stock market, business ventures, legitimate holdings like his Uncle taught him. The value of it all is set up in a trust. Everything he has is secured so the government can’t get their hands on it. I’m sure you know all about that. And legally, as Simon Lehnsherr, if he should ever be incarcerated all of his property falls to me. _I’m_ the boss of the Brotherhood. Until he gets out.”

The room is quiet and still while the villains absorb the new information. “New plans, everyone,” announces Schmidt. “Janos, you and the doctor are going to carefully extract my kidney from that body. Just the one for now. Then, doctor, you two are going to sew him up and let him live.”

“No,” says Essex. “We’re not set up for that kind of operation. I agreed to do this to kill him. I’m not sticking around for aftercare. If you hadn’t noticed,” he gestures to his bad with the scalpel, “I’m a little impaired. And it’s all his fault.”

Charles thumps his head, “It’s just a little broken arm! You’ll be fine! And your face is… Well. You’ll probably play the piano beautifully when you heal.”

Nevan grunts, probably feeling sympathy for the man. Essex slams his good hand on the table, “I’m not doing this, Shaw! We’re going to kill him today or I’m leaving! You’re not getting any work out of me if this little brat doesn’t die!”

Charles looks at Schmidt, and watches him as he thinks about it. “How long do I have if I don’t get new parts today?”

Essex looks him up and down, “Two months, maybe. I told you, all of your systems are failing. And harvesting a healthy donor is the only thing that will save you. I did this whore’s bloodwork. You’re practically cousins.”

Sebastian raises his eyebrow, “Well that’s interesting. Don’t you think that’s interesting, Francis?”

Charles frowns, feeling his chances to survive going downhill. Essex is smiling, his face stretching the bandages. “Now if you don’t mind. I’ll need the use of your boy’s hands.”

Sebastian gives Janos a strange look and then nods. The handsome man moves to take the scalpel from Charles and hovers over his body.

“Good. Now make the first incision here,” he says while dragging a finger across Charles back, starting from the cut he made earlier. “I’ll direct you on how to remove the organs.”

Janos nods while leaning over and Charles panics. He starts to squirm only to have Nevan come hold him down. He closes his eyes and turns his face away. He’s just thinking of praying to Erik again when he feels something hot splash across his back and naked thighs.

He turns back to see Essex’s head falling back, a giant, gushing gash across his throat. Janos is calmly cleaning the scalpel off on the tablecloth.

“Cousin!” Shouts Sebastian as Nevan pushes his chair out of the room. “Get off that table and come chit chat with me.”

Charles is released and hops off the table. He tries to ignore the way Essex looks, crumpled on the floor. Mrs. Gregorivich quietly follows Schmidt. Janos gives Charles a low bow, “Perhaps you’ll like to clean up first, sir. And put on some pants. I imagine my employer has a lot to discuss with you.”

Charles is led t out the guest room. He spent many weekends here in those four years he was at the Gregorivich’s mercy. There’s a paddle on the door and some of his (or some other unfortunate boy’s) clothes on the dresser. Charles hurries to the bathroom first. He spends a long time in there, cleaning up and dressing before he comes out. He wishes Hank had tagged him like a pet cat. He could have been out of this hell-hole sooner.

To think that Essex was working for Schmidt this whole time… Charles remembers how Erik described his Uncle Mischa cleaning house. Replacing veterans with new untested boys and girls off the streets. Kids like Raven and Angel apparently. Darwin and Alex. But Essex didn’t have any loyalty holding to Erik’s service. He climbed in bed a with man who could order his death with a look, instead.

Charles decides he’s not going to feel bad about that. The awful man deserved to die like that. Instead he thinks of the windows in this room. He already knows from experience that they’re barred, but he could get one open and… what pass on a note or something? No, he thinks. He’ll have to keep lying and telling half-truths to get out of this.

When he’s finished he goes out to the living room, dressed in a simple t-shirt and pair of ratty jeans that hang off his hips. “Mummy?”

“In here, baby.” The old woman is all smiles now. She leads Charles by the hand to the sofa and sits down with him. She throws a bony arm around his shoulders and Charles is overwhelmed by the smell of gunpowder and lilacs. “Come sit by me and tell us about that mean ol’ Lehnsherr’s money. I’m sure you had nothing to do with Arkady’s death, now. Why he loved you like a brother.” She squishes his chin and Charles pulls away.

“I’m sure he did.” He looks at Schmidt as the man is assisted by Janos in his chair. “But look now. I’ve found a long lost cousin.”

Schmidt is at the wrong angle to see Charles, but he laughs. “Yes let’s keep it all in the family. Now, Francis. It is Francis right? Why don’t you tell us where to start? I don’t want you burdened with running that great big syndicate on your own. I’m thinking you should make tracks, as they say. Hand over the reins to me and I can help you get far away from here. Anywhere in the world. And you would never to be burdened as someone’s fuck toy again.”

“Unless you want to,” smiles Mrs. Gregorivich as she leans into his shoulder. “You are a natural ‘ho after all. There’s no denying that.”

“Natalia,” snaps Schmidt, “Why don’t you fetch us all some tea. And clean up that unsightly mess in the kitchen. We’re expecting company.”

She grumbles but complies after squeezing Charles’s knee. “I didn’t mean it, darling. There’s nothing minute about you!”

“Talia!”

The old woman finally leaves and Charles crosses his legs suddenly feeling self-conscious. He’s never had a bad review before. He puffs up, assuming the mean old hag was just making fun of him. If he was terrible in bed, she wouldn’t have kept calling him back. He nods to himself, feeling a little vindicated. Meanwhile Schmidt works himself up to his offer.

“Say you and I came to a deal. What assurance do I have that it’s not another elaborate con on your part? Emma’s dead, sweet cheeks. And your man is going up the river for it. Do you really think his people can protect you? What kind of jerk paints a big red target on his fuck toy’s back? What’s keeping the whole organization from turning on you in this tumultuous time, hm?” He raises a brow, the only expression his limp body can afford.

Charles sighs and sits back, “I want to walk out of here. I want you and whatever remains your goons to back off. I will do… whatever you ask. I don’t need Erik’s money or his people. If you want it, it’s yours. I just want to go home.” It’s the truth and he pours every ounce of sincerity he has into the admission.

Schmidt considers him for a long moment before clearing his throat, “This is going be one hell of a legal dance! Fortunately, I have pretty fantastic lawyers, now that Hellfire’s mine again.”

“And Essex? What he said about your organs?” Charles raises his own brow. If the man thinks he’ll sign over Erik’s loot and then bend over for another operation, he’s kidding himself.

Schmidt rolls his eyes, “Two months he said. I can get another black list doctor and pick up a few street urchins. It’s hard to fine clean ones, but they won’t be missed. I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me, Frankie.”

“I wasn’t worried, Seb.” He smirks. “Should we shake on it or…”

“Cute.” Schmidt looks at Janos and the man’s bows before approaching Charles. Charles half-expects a quick death like the one Essex got. He’s not expecting a new phone to be offered. “Take that and answer whenever I call you. If you’re late or miss a call, I’ll assume the deal is broken. I will have you killed, Charles. Nothing in this world will save you if you con me a second time. I hope you understand.”

Charles is just getting up when Mrs. Gregorivich stands up. “Oh is he leaving? I can’t say I like this.”

Charles gives her a peck on the cheek. He keeps his stomach from roiling as he does so and backs up to the door, shoeless but intent on being free. “I’ll just catch a cab. No one has to know any of this happened. I’ll call back when I have something.”

Nevan is already at the door, blocking it with the mass of his body.

“No, Frankie. We’ll call you.” Schmidt smiles and Janos waves for him. Charles is set free into the sunlight. The neighborhood and streets he walked for so long seem alien. All he wants is to go home to Erik and get in bed. But he can’t even do that now.

 

* * *

 

 

Charles hails a cab and is surprised to find one in this neighborhood. It takes him all the way to his apartment. He sits inside it letting the meter run while he thinks of what he going do next. If he tells them he was taken in the middle of the night, they’re chase down Schmidt and Mrs. Gregorivich. But if the Schmidt was telling the truth he’s the head of the hellfire club again, and all if its resources. He can order another hit on Erik. Charles has heard of big mobsters dying lonely deaths in prison. If he can stop something like that…

He gets out, mind made up. He’ll keep quiet and pretend he was just on a walkabout. Until he knows more about all the recent drama.

Darwin rushes out of lobby and meets Charles in the street, “Where the fuck have you been!”

Charles sighs, “I was out.” He offers vaguely. “I was just out. I’m sorry. I just couldn’t cope.”

“We thought you were snatched! There’s nothing on the cameras, no one saw you leave the front door! The window was open in the guest bedroom. There’s no way you could have climbed down ten stories for a fucking walk!”

Charles shakes his head, “No. I just… I don’t want to talk about it. I just needed out. Without supervision. For a few hours. I’m sorry Darwin. I know I made everyone worried. I was just feeling sick and I couldn’t…”

“Cope.” Darwin looks Charles up and down. “I don’t believe you for a second. But you don’t look hurt. Where the fuck are your shoes? Whose clothes are you wearing?” He grabs Charles by the hand and leads him inside. “Come and pack your shit. We’re leaving.”

“Armando, wait.” Charles tries to put together a better lie. Nothing really comes to mind. So he falls back on what he really wants to know. “How’s Erik?”

“He worried sick! He almost blew our attempt to get him free beating a guard down when you went missing. And you disappeared on Alex’s watch! Need I remind you of the last time that happened!” He turns on Charles and shoves a finger in his chest, “Erik’s my boss, but I love Alex. I’m not letting him get hurt over this shit. If something happened to you-“

“Nothing happened!” Charles raises his hands, “I’m sorry, Armando. Honestly, I wasn’t thinking. Nothing happened. I’m just worried about Erik. Is he getting out?”

They make it to the elevator and Darwin punches the button Charles’s floor. “He’s managing. They’re trying to bring him up on charges for a missing persons case. They think we ordered a hit on Emma Frost at the wedding.”

“No,” says Charles. He follows Darwin to his rooms while holding his head.

“Yes,” says the man. He opens the door and tells Charles to get packed. “I’m taking you to the house mid-town. That place is locked up like a fortress. No one is getting to you there. And you,” he snaps, “Are not getting out.” He stomps off leaving Charles to get his things.

Charles packs the same suitcases he did months ago when Erik was shot. He grabs his copy of the Once and Future King and tucks it under his arm.

The trip back to the house is quiet. Alex isn’t talking to him. Darwin only snaps at him in small outbursts and orders. Charles does as he’s told and goes up to his room. He climbs into bed and doesn’t think of his grumbling stomach or the aches in wrists and ankles. He turns over to Erik’s pillow and sleeps.

* * *

 

 

A week later and Charles still hasn’t told the truth about his kidnapping.

He accepts two check-in calls from Janos. One asking him to confirm his location. Another detailing the way Erik looked as he was put into solitary. Charles hangs up on that call but thinks about the implications all day. And the next and the next. Until finally Darwin tells him, Erik will be allowed visitors today. His lawyer is trying to fix a problem with his bail. The judge set it at five million dollars and Erik has to pretend to be a man of little means. Azazel can’t just hand over a duffel bag full of hundred dollar bills. So it’s slow going.

Charles worries over what to wear. He has to be Simon Lehnsherr today. He has to play the part Erik asked him to. So he puts on a button up and blue cardigan and pockets his reading glasses. Slips his feet into a pair of comfortable loafers and slicks his hair back. He takes in his appearance and nods before getting a sensible jacket out the closet. He stops when he sees Erik’s black trench coat. He leans in, smelling traces of the man’s cologne before he takes it down and puts it on.

Darwin remarks on the look as he gets in the car, “A little warm out sir?”

“I’m chilled to the bones, Darwin. Please, just take me to Erik.”

Darwin doesn’t make any observations. They simply get in the car and drive out to where Erik is being held.

Charles feels nervous when they arrive. He rethinks entering the building with Erik’s signature coat on. It works against his act, anyway. He carefully takes it off, hugs the fabric to his chest before leaving on the seat. He braces himself for entering the jailhouse. He’s been around criminals for years now, but this is the first time he’s seen so many cops in one place. They’re lead to room where Charles meets with Erik’s lawyer face to face.

The gorgeous blond from the TV looks more haggard in person. His hair is uncombed and his clothes are disheveled. He greets Charles with a hearty handshake. “There you are, Simon. I’m Warren Worthington the Third. It’s such a pleasure to meet you.” He manages the mega-watt smile he’s perfected on TV.

Charles grimaces, “Under the circumstances, I can’t say the same. Where’s Erik?”

The man’s face softens, “He’s okay. He’s being held in solitary after a little misunderstanding with one of the guards. But you can see him today, in private for half an hour. As your lawyer I’m going to advise to take care with your… try and be discreet and follow his lead. He knows what’s he doing. And trust me, I’m not going to let them hurt our friend.”

Charles nods, “You’ve known Erik a long time?”

The man looks away, scratching the back of his head like he’s embarrassed, “He’s what I’d call a family friend. I’ll tell you more later. You are practically family now, anyway.” He smiles again. “But come on. Erik is desperate to see you.”

Charles is lead to the holding cell where Erik is being held behind a big steel door. They reach a guard with a black eye and the man blocks them with a nightstick. “Only the ah… loved one, Mr. Worthington. He’s not allowed more one visitor at a time.”

Worthington rolls his eyes, “You are disgusting. If you think can harass my client over a personal vendetta…”

“Sir,” says another guard. “It’s just policy for violent offenders. One visitor at a time. Please, this way Mr. Lehnsherr.”

This man and the guard with a black-eye lead Charles to the cell and open the door. Charles steps inside quickly but gasps when he sees Erik. He’s wearing a simple pair of grey scrubs, not orange. Erik is locked down, ankles cuffed to a bar running under his bench, then a chain running from his feet up to cuffs on his hand. There’s a little cut over his eye but there’s a giant smile on his face when he sees Charles.

Charles frowns, “Did they hurt you?”

Erik shrugs, “I had a little disagreement with one the guards. I’m not at liberty to talk about it at this time.” He grins, baring all his teeth. The guard with the bruised face grunts before his partner pulls him out of the room. Charles watches as they close the door and seals them in.

Charles runs over to Erik, “Erik!”

Erik tries to reach up, but his hands can’t come up higher than his own chest. Charles settles between his husband and the table, sitting in Erik’s lap and wrapping his arms around his neck. They manage with Erik’s chain, between them. The tether clinks as they get comfortable and Erik lays his hands on Charles’s thighs. “I’m so glad to see you’re alright. Darwin said you were taken. Then he said you _weren’t_ taken. Which is it? What happened?”

“I can’t…” starts Charles. He thinks about lying at first. But changes his mind at the last second. “It’s complicated. I can’t tell you now. Just like you can’t tell me about the guard.” He manages a weak smile, “But I’m okay. It’s nothing to worry about. We have to get you out of here.”

“Ah well,” says Erik squeezing Charles’s leg, “That’s a little more complicated now. They trumped up the charges, Cha… Simon. Their trying to set me up for killing Emma Frost.”

“Is she really dead?”

“I don’t know. All I know is I had nothing to do with her disappearance. Whatever evidence they think they have is enough to keep me in this hole. But it’s not real, darling. I didn’t do anything.”

“I know,” says Charles. He saw for himself, as Erik and the woman seemed to get along at the wedding. He knows now that it was Schmidt and Mrs. Gregorivich. He intends to clear his husband’s name but he’ll need Worthington’s help and he can’t risk saying anything here. “I just want you to come home. I can’t sleep when you’re gone.”

Erik kisses him on the neck, “That’s a lie. I’ve woken up before to you staring up at the ceiling like some kind of insomniac.” He kisses him again. “You probably sleep better when I’m not there hogging the covers. That’s why you want to keep the apartment.” He says it like it’s something he’s been telling himself for a while. He hides his face in Charles’s neck.

“Oh darling, no.” Charles admits, “I can’t sleep at all now. I need you to come home. I need to know you’re safe.” He rests his head against Erik’s. “Please stop fighting the guards and come home. I need you. I really need you.” His eyes well up with tears and Erik tries to wipe them but his hands come up short.

“Don’t cry for me Charles. I’m perfectly safe in here. Locked up with three square meals a day and a team of nannies to look after me. It’s like being in preschool.” He grins then smiles slowly as his hands find Charles’s legs again. “Of course, I’ve been all alone for the last week. Locked up in solitary. There’s not even a big guy called bubba to keep me company.” He kisses Charles on the neck again.

Charles pulls, “Are you serious? Here? I have thirty minutes to figure out what to do with you and you want to waste time that on what? A handjob?”

“A taste,” grins Erik. He nuzzles Charles under the neck, breathing in deeply. “A few days without you and I’m _shaking_ , darling. I missed the way you feel. The way you smell. The way you taste,” he licks and nips at any skin he can get to between Charles’s neck and shoulder.

Charles gets up and holds out his hands. “Absolutely, not! I am many things, sir. But I’m not an exhibitionist!”

Erik stands up, his hands not going much further than Charles’s hips. “You and I both know that’s a lie. I remember a certain boat ride,” he grins leaning into Charles’s space.

Charles grins at the memory from only a few weeks ago. “That was just the once!” He lets Erik’s hand slip into his pants. “What was that you said about conjugal visits?”

“I believe it was you who bought it up, Mr. Lehnsherr,” Erik undoes Charles pants and pushes them down his thighs. He stops and looks down in surprise, “You’re wearing boxers?”

Charles shrugs. He doesn’t want to admit the real reason why, so he lies. “I’m not comfortable around all these criminals. And prisoners.” Erik laughs while pulling the pants further down and undoing his own. “And I’m not doing this,” continues Charles. “Not now with that scowling creep looking in on us. He doesn’t deserve a free show.”

Erik fumbles between the bench that’s bolted down and the table. There’s not much room to maneuver. The heavy table does move a little, so he pushes it backs and with his limited mobility, manhandles Charles until he’s bent over the table. Charles looks back and sees Erik bent over trying to suck on his own fingers. Charles sighs. “I don’t know why I put up with you.”

He has an easier time wetting two of his fingers and reaching back to his hole. Charles is mindful of the fact that there could be cameras or nosy or one of Schmidt’s spies outside the door. None of that matters as he feels Erik’s hand join him, stretching him quickly with barely any slick. Charles braces himself. Barebacking in a prison cell is something he’s always been terrified of, but just now it feels thrilling.

Erik’s hands settle on the small of his back and the blunt head of his cock slips, catching at the ring of muscle but not entering. Charles has to reach back and help guide him. He gives Erik a firm stroke first, having missed the feel of it in his hands. Erik makes a sound and Charles arches his back while pulling the man forward. He has to cover his own mouth with his other hand, moaning loudly at the feeling of being stretched. They fucked constantly on their honeymoon. Charles imagines his it’s like a drug for them both. Two sex addicts sent into withdrawal after a mere week of getting none. Charles closes his eyes and tries to imagine they’re at home. Comfortable, safe and warm. Maybe playing a game, like they did on the island.

Erik starts with a stuttering motion, his feet finding better purchase despite the chains. The tether drags against Charles’s naked backside, and the clinking sound pulls him out of his fantasy of home. Erik finds his balance and finally slides in all the way. The almost dry drag in and out is slow, giving Charles time to adjust. Even as he’s used to Erik’s girth now, they never fuck with so little preparation.

Erik is careful, holding on to Charles with a solid grip and keeping a slow and steady pace. He’s quiet, mindful of Charles’s worry about being caught. Charles wonders if man understands there’s a time limit. “Eighteen minutes now. You want to hurry it up back there, darling?”

Erik huffs out a laugh. He leans forward and bites down on hard on Charles neck. He licks the mark he undoubtedly left on purpose. “Stop counting the minutes. I don’t want to be timed. It’s makes me uneasy.” He laughs against Charles’s skin, then groans as he buries himself to the hilt, “Oh I did miss that.” He works his way out and back in with a hitch of his hips. “The heat of you. You are so perfect, Charles.” He catches his mistake and bumps his head against Charles’s shoulder. “Sorry, I meant...”

“Don’t. It’s alright. Charles is just my middle name, okay. Leave it at that.” Charles lets out a shaky sigh. The table digs into his hipbone and feels uncomfortable. He wraps a hand around his own cock and starts to pump. “Come on, Erik. Hurry up. I need you. Come on, love. Please?”

Erik moves faster, his neatly manicured nails biting into Charles’s back. A thumb circles the new scar Essex gave him. “What happened to your back.”

Charles shakes his head, “Fuck me, Erik. Stop talking and fuck me.”

Erik pulls out and Charles is scared the man is going to make him talk about it. Instead Erik slams back in. He starts fucking like he means it. Charles is shaken and rattled on the table. He falls forward and tries to spread his legs, but the pants around his knees restrain him. He wiggles until they fall and let his legs open a little more. Erik grunts through his fucking and squeezes hard at all the flesh he can reach. The stupid tether trailing his hands wherever they go.

The sensation of cool metal and Erik hammering away is remarkably stimulating. Charles keeps jerking himself off as his other arm braces on the table. His shirt and sweater is pushed up his back, and Charles feels the cool of the table on his belly as Erik claws down his back before pushing his pants further down with one of his chained feet. Charles wriggles free of one leg, surprised his shoe didn’t get caught. Now his legs are spread wide and he can’t think at all. Erik starts panting behind him and the sounds of their fucking echoes off the walls of the little cell. Slapping skin, the dragging of Erik cock in and out. Charles thumping against the table.

The guards must hear something outside but they don’t stop it.

Charles feels unsteady, Erik hits him in just the right place but backs off, giving him fast shallow thrusts. “Wait, Charles. Don’t you come just yet.”

“Don’t be mean to me, Erik,” he reaches back and squeezes Erik’s ass, “Please. Fuck me, _there_. Please. I need you to. Please, Erik.”

“Don’t come yet, I said.” He goes faster and faster until he abruptly pulls out. He’s never been selfish with Charles before, always makes sure the younger man comes at least once before he did. Charles frowns down at the table. He hardly expects the firm grip on his side as Erik pulls him up and flips him over. “Now get up there. And put that cock in my mouth.”

Charles quirks an eyebrow, “Whatever you want Erik.” He smiles and does as he was told waiting as Erik sits back on the bench. He bends over and licks a long stripe up Charles’s cock before looking his husband in the eye. The look alone makes Charles wants to come and he reaches out to grab Erik by the hair. Guides the man back down and starts fucking his face.

He comes down Erik’s throat in short time and thinks of Mrs. Gregorivich’s evil assessment. It hardly counts, he tells himself. That was longer than a minute of fucking anyway. They’re time is almost up. They should clean up and get… Oh. Charles looks down sees the fat red, head of Erik’s cock peeking out from under scrubs. “I thought you came?”

“Lie down,” commands Erik. He pushes until Charles does just that. It takes an awkward shuffle of his feet, but he gets close to the table, and drags Charles to meet his cock just off the side. He holds on to one leg as he re-enters. “Now hold on to something,” he grins.

When he slams back in, Charles reaches over his head and holds onto table with both hands. His mouth freezes in a wide ‘o’ as Erik plants his feet and pummels him, this time in just the right place. The little grip his conservative khaki slacks and boxers had gives up. They slide off his other leg and drop to the floor. Charles can’t say he cares much, not while Erik is fucking him with such accuracy. The leg he’s holding on to is going to be bruised from the grip he has on it. Charles smiles to himself, happy to be marked and claimed all over again. Even here in this miserable place.

Erik is on the verge of coming and Charles feels his cock just stirring again. He pumps himself, never mind the mess he’s going to make on his sweater. “Yes, Erik! Please!”

“Shh,” hushes Erik. He tries to quiet Charles while redoubling his efforts. That leg in the air, coming to rest on his shoulder as the other leg wraps around his waist. He’s not being very quiet himself and the slap, slap, slap of their joining is hardly indiscreet. “Shh,” he says again even as he shuddering. He moans as he comes in the tight heat of Charles’s channel. Then hushes him again.

“Fuck,” says Charles, no longer caring. “Fuck. Yes!”

Erik continues to fuck into him, while his come slicks the way. When he starts to go soft, he pulls out, and shoves his fingers in the wet, stretched hole. “Come on, love.” He crooks them until he’s just rubbing Charles’s prostrate, milking another orgasm from him.

“Erik!” Charles finally comes, biting down on one his hands to keep from crying out.

Erik falls on to the bench and leans forward, licking up the mess on Charles. Then biting him on his both thighs. Charles lets his legs down and sits up slowly. He slumps over and holds onto Erik while the man buries his face in the sticky sweater. Erik is relaxed at least. Hopefully he’s not thinking about that stupid scar.

“What happened to your back?”

Of course he’s thinking about the stupid scar. “I have to get dressed.”

“Answer me, Charles.”

“Simon.”

“My love,” he says with so much earnestness that Charles has to look away. When Charles looks back Erik seems crestfallen. “Please, just answer me. What happened to your back?”

Charles looks at the door and wonders if the guard that attacked Erik is on Schmidt’s dime. “You have to promise not to do anything rash. At least not until you get out, Erik. Be good. Be a model fucking prisoner. Snap your sheet corners and count the tile. Anything. Just don’t give them any reason to keep you in here. I’m going to help Warren and we’re going to bring you home. Then we can talk about other matters, I promise.”

Erik leans forward, rests his head again against Charles chest. “I’ll do anything to get back to you, Charles. Anything.”

Charles pats him on the head, “Okay. Now move before they catch me with my pants down. I looked it up and conjugal visits aren’t even legal in this state.”

Erik lets him get dressed and they ignore the guard when he slides open the door and stares at them.

Charles kisses his husband goodbye with tears in his eyes. They promise each other to stay strong and Charles plans on doing just that. While walking out of the station, and half-listening to Worthington’s consultation, he checks the phone in his pocket.

 

**_5528115555: Meeting at the Old Hag’s Place @ 9_ **

Fine, thinks Charles with a smile. This time, he’ll be prepared to deal with them all.

 

 

 


	9. Fool Proof

Right after cleaning up and giving the guard the smuggest ‘I just got laid’ look possible Charles agreed to join Warren and Armando for lunch.  So he finds himself seated between the two taller men in Erik’s kitchen.

Charles repeatedly checks his phone for any more messages, but finds Schmidt is being silent now.  Warren and Darwin talk over his head about securing the money for Erik’s bail and giving the media another story to spin.  They discuss finding evidence that this is all a set up.  Charles wants to help, but he’s out of his depth at this point.  He sits there like a kid at the table while the grownups talk business.  It’s nothing he’s not use to, living with Erik and the Brotherhood.  But it stings.  It hurts to feel like he has nothing to contribute.  He hangs his head and listens while sipping a soda.

He sighs and looks around.  On the whole, he likes the space.  Its clean and stylish, the way Erik prefers everything to be.  Sharp, shiny angles.  New, top of line appliances.  Peculiar, but expensive artwork and the occasional assault rifle just lying around.

Charles had made up several lists during the honeymoon.  The kitchen was at the top of his ‘things I want to redecorate if I should ever agree to move in’ section.

Charles notes that with his feet barely reaching the ground.  Erik’s counter is unfairly high up.  Darwin and the handsome Mr. Worthington are talking around him, not to him.  Charles feels alone.  He shakes his soda can and gets a look from Darwin.  He stops before he makes a mess in the boss’ kitchen.  He really is a pet now.  Some small dependent creature waiting for his owner to return.  Everyone here is waiting for him to piss on the floor or dig up the flowers.  And that’s why he hates coming to Erik’s house.  There’s nothing here that belongs to Charles.  Every step he takes is erased, every touch is sterilized.  The boys that work for Darwin are like shadows, flitting in and out without speaking to him.

Charles interrupts to ask about the bookstore, “Is Angel available?  I’d like her help with some things.”

Darwin pulls out his phone and flips through it, “One of my guys is up there managing… But yeah I guess so.  She can keep watch for you tomorrow, but then you’re coming back to the fortress and staying up your tower, _Princess_.”

Charles blushes, “I really wish you had stayed to your side of the island, you bloody voyeur.”

Darwin laughs and Warren looks between them with a confused face, “Did I miss something?”

Charles shakes his head ‘no’ while Darwin answers, “About a month of kinky sex with your godbrother.”

Warren covers his ears, “I don’t want to hear it then.”  But then he smiles at Charles.  “I’m glad you make him happy.  I’m sorry I missed the wedding.  Erik talks about you like you hung the moon.”

Charles ducks his head, embarrassed.  “We have a mutually beneficial arrangement, that’s all.”

The men across the table look at him with raised eyebrows.

Charles throws up his hands, “And fantastic sex, yes!  He’s hung like a fucking horse!  Is that what you want to hear?”

The other boys in the kitchen look to the counter and Charles sinks in his seat and covers his face.  Remy would tell to him to flaunt the news but after the island, he doesn’t want to share Erik anymore.  He wants to keep their privacy, private.  The kisses, the smiles, the hand holding.  It’s all private, now.  “ _Oh_ ”, thinks Charles, bitterly.  “ _I’ve been tamed.”_

Charles hunches over his can and a little dish of crackers until his pocket buzzes.  Darwin is teasing and grinning when he bumps into Charles’s shoulder, “You gonna get that?”

Charles pulls quickly away from the counter, “Yeah.  I think I’ll take a walk out back.  Do I need a babysitter in Erik’s garden?”

Darwin rolls his eyes, “Don’t pout now, you big baby.  If you weren’t prone to disappearing and fucking on the side, this wouldn’t be happening.”

“Darwin,” says Warren, “Go easy.  I know you’re all wound up about Mags, but that no reason to take it out on the kid.”

“I’m not a kid,” snaps Charles.  He looks between the two of the them.  He can’t tell how old either of them are, and it doesn’t matter how many years separate them.  He’s a grown man.  And he can walk through his husband’s house unchaperoned.  So he stomps off before they can say anything else.  It’s a very mature display, he thinks.

Charles passes Bobby on his way outside.  “Hey,” says the boy.   He’s eating a very large sandwich and trailing behind Charles.  “Don’t think we don’t know what’s up with you.  If you’re trying to make a dime on the side now, when they’re in there trying to get your dearly beloved—hey!”  Charles slams the door in Bobby’s face and goes outside.

Not all of the boys are so openly disrespectful.  There’s still static between him and Erik’s lackey’s.  Darwin shields him from the worst of it, but it’s there.  As even Alex has pointed out, Charles is an unknown for them.  He’s not a proper employed of the old business.  He represents the new business.  And the memory of Sean’s death is sore point.  They hate that Charles is a professed whore.  And they hate that their boss is willing to kill for him.  It puts a target on his back for hazing.  Charles didn’t notice it before with Erik around or while he worked through the bookstore.  But it’s certainly more apparent now.

He steps further away from the house, out to where Erik’s grandmother has planted a little herb plot.  There’s a wicker chair shaded under a wide umbrella and Charles checks his phone as he sits down.

_**5528115555** : Come alone and unarmed.  Bring your proof_.

 

“Fat chance,” says Charles.  He looks around to assess just how alone he is outside.  There are guards on the roof looking down at him.  Bobby hanging back in the house, looking at him from the door.  Charles thinks about walking a little further away, hoping to stay out earshot.  Maybe he could get lost in Erik’s little maze, but he decides against calling the number.  He leaves a message agreeing to come back to Mrs. Gregorivich’s house.  On the condition that he can bring along a numbers girl loyal to him.

 

**_5528115555_ ** _: We’re not stupid.  We know about Lehnsherr’s femme fatales._

**_5528115555:_ ** _You’re not sneaking a known assassin over here, bright eyes_

Charles rolls his eyes before responding.  He lets them know he has his own personnel, outside of Erik’s business.  He reminds them how easy it was to knock over the bookstore.  His heart breaks a little thinking of Sean, but he gets a quick response back.

 

**_5528115555_ ** _: One chick.  And if anything looks funny we shoot you and the chick in the face._

 

Just as Charles wonders if Nevan is manning the phone, he gets called back to the house.

 

Bobby waves to him, “Raven wants to talk to you upstairs.”

Charles tries not to panic.  His thoughts in the last month has turned to her time and time again.  Now here she is, summoned like a genie.  Charles goes up to Erik’s bedroom and is unsettled to find the woman so comfortable.  She lays across the foot of the bed, wearing a light green sundress and flip-flops.  She looks like she just checked into a hotel on holiday, not walked back into her long-lost stepson’s life.

She gives Charles a bright smile, “Long time no see.  Am I supposed to call you Charles or Simon?”

“Charles is fine.”  He says, keeping his distance.  He walks over to stand in front of the vanity.  “What should I call you?”

She gives him a sad smile before patting the bed next to her.  “Call me Raven, please.  I wanted to tell you my name years ago.  You were a such good kid, Charles.”  She gives him a fond smile but it does little settle Charles’s nerves.  Still he accepts the invitation to sit on his own husband’s bed and leans back on the headboard.

Charles crosses his legs on Erik’s side with his shoes still on.  It’s something that would have warranted a spanking and he misses Erik terribly just thinking of it.  It’s almost as bad as the other feelings rising with the sight of his stepmother.  So he waves a hand at it all, “I don’t know if the spread has been changed since we last fucked down there.  It was acrobatic, sweaty… watersports may have been involved.”

Raven chokes on a laugh, “That’s disgusting Charles!”  She sits up and mirrors his position.  “Way to gross someone out.”  She still sounds and looks like the bubbly blonde heiress he knew.  But he knows better now.  And Charles needs to use that.  He’s thought about his options long and hard since leaving the prison.  He doesn’t have many.  And he was going to call her anyway…

With a sigh, Charles tosses the phone that’s been plaguing him and resigns himself to telling at least one person the whole truth.  “That is the phone Sebastian Schmidt gave me after Erik was arrested.  They’ve set him up.  Killed or kidnapped Emma Frost and are employing guards at the prison to watch Erik.”

Raven doesn’t look surprise to hear this news.  “No one really believed your little ‘went for a walk’ story.  Darwin’s been casing the building trying to find out what happened to you.”

Charles sighs and takes up Erik’s pillow.  He holds it his chest and thinks of having Erik back.  What he wouldn’t do to have Erik back.  “I know.  And he’s worried about Alex.  I don’t want to put any of them in danger.  None of the others really trust me.  I think they suspect I had a hand it.  I can’t tell them about this, they’ll just use it against me.  But I can’t sit on the sidelines either.  I have to do something, Raven.  I have to save Erik.”

Raven gives him small smile, “Okay.”  She gets up and crawls to the head of the bed.  There she throws an arm around his shoulder.  “Okay, Charles.  I owe you one.  A big one.  Whatever life you’ve led…”

“Don’t…”

“It’s all my fault.  For not reaching you in time.  For not seeing things earlier.  If I had been better trained you would have lived a good life in Ororo’s house.  Gone to school.  Been protected…”

“But I didn’t,” he says as voice cracks.  “I didn’t get that life.  I got whatever I could take.  I’ve done horrible things and…  And this is who I am.  But it doesn’t matter when I’m with Erik.  He doesn’t look at me like I’m… he just doesn’t see that anymore.  And I don’t want to go back to corners and alleys.  I just want Erik back.  Please?  Will you help me?”  It breaks something in him to really ask out loud.  He’s been trying to stand on his own, separate from everyone since he ran away.  There’s not always someone there to watch his back.  Soften his falls.  See him through his spectacular spells of bad luck and poor decisions.  Remy, Erik, Darwin and Mallory are exceptions to the rules.  Charles loves and resents them all.   He doesn’t mean to start crying but the tears come and unlike his stage cry there’s nothing pretty about it.  He sobs on her shoulder until he can’t anymore.

Raven rocks him back forth, combing her fingers through his hair.  “Okay, let’s start with this.”  She pulls him up to look her in the eye.  “Whatever you want to do, I’m with you.  Okay, Charles?”

Charles wants to crumple up or run away.  He could lay around but that would just put Erik in danger, not responding to the calls.  Not taking Schmidt seriously.  And running away?  Could he go back to pimping himself, saving for his return to an empty manor and leave this world of mob bosses and obligations behind?  And with the way Bobby and some of the others talk, Charles thinks he’d targeted by the brotherhood if he ever made a break from it.  Raven hands him the phone and he thinks about what he wants most in the world.  And he finally comes to a decision.

* * *

 

 

“Well, at least I’m unarmed.”  Charles chuckles darkly to himself before walking up the steps and knocking on the door.

Nevan stands at the door, a surprised look on his face.  “You’re early.”  He gives Raven a slow once over, “This the chick?”

Raven plays her part and fumbles with a laptop bag as she reaches out in greeting, “Mallory Darkholme, CPA.”

Nevan squints, as she has probably confused him further.  “I thought you were an accountant?”  He shoves Charles in the chest, “What is this?  Why are you so early?”

“Punctuality is a saintly quality, sir.”  Charles pushes past the man and walks confidently to the living room.  He expects Sebastian Schmidt and the others to be there but it’s just Mrs. Gregorivich. 

“Martini!”

“Mummy,” smiles Charles.  His stomach turns at the sight of her in a sheer night gown.  Her breast hang down in small pointed ‘v’s, sharply ended with vividly large pink nipples.  Her skinny, veiny arms are thrown over the couch as she sits with her legs spread wide.  Charles starts to look away, but thinks better of it.  This is a show for someone.  Either she has some poor boy locked in here, or this is for him.  So he smiles wider.  “You look good enough to eat.”

She giggles, coughs, and giggles again.  “You’re still a such a charming little slut!  I like that!  Come down here and give me a real kiss.”

Charles hesitates.  He’s had it too good with Erik, he thinks.  He’s forgotten how to perform revolting tasks on people he can’t stand.  He reminds himself he has a birthday to look forward.  The promise of a three-way with any woman he wants and Erik’s tacit approval.  There was even mention of recording it.  But that’s months away and Erik is in jail.  So first, he can’t do anything fun without… crawling back to whence he came from.  “ _Ew_ ,” thinks Charles.  Honestly, he rather cut her and run.

Mrs. Gregorivich taps her foot, “Come on honey, I ain’t got all day.  Down on your knees.”

Raven gasps and tries to flee the room but Nevan blocks her.  Then the brute gives Charles a rough push forward and Charles falls to the floor, but doesn’t crawl toward the old woman.  Instead he raises his hands, “Wait.  Where’s the others?  I thought this was a business meeting?  I have something important to tell you all.”  He looks over his shoulder at Nevan and Raven.  “And if you still want a ‘kiss’ from me, we should do it in private.   I wouldn’t want the others to get jealous.  I like having you all to myself.”  He smirks.

The old woman laughs.  “Oh you!  They don’t make mouths like yours anymore!”  She (thankfully) closes her legs and gets up.  “Come on let’s go say hello to the stuffy boys.  They’re in the kitchen.  Would you like a place at the table?”

“As long as it’s a seat and not on top of the table, this time.”

Mrs. Gregorivich laughs harder and wraps her bony fingers around his arm.  She sneers as she passes Raven.  “A little fat ain’t she?  Can’t stand a woman who doesn’t take care of herself.  Right Martini?”  She keeps her grip tight as she leads him to the kitchen where Janos is spoon-feeding his boss with a serious expression.  Even with all his concentration, Schmidt has bits of pureed food on his chin and shirt front.  Janos notes their entry with a sharp look.  “You’re early.”

“Janos,” starts Schmidt.  “Punctuality is a saintly quality.  Right Professor.”

“Indeed it is, Seb.  How are you feeling?”

“Nothing from the neck down, thanks to you.”  He smiles darkly, “But I can afford to live comfortably.  Being comfortable is one thing, but I’d like to be _happy_ , Simon or Francis.  Everyone wants their quality of life to be top shelf, right?  And I imagine, the only thing that will make me happy now is to have what you promised me.  That or knowing you and all your precious friends are dead.”

Charles is about to respond but Mrs. Gregorivich coughs loudly. The hacking continues until Schmidt gets tired of it.  He looks at Janos and the quiet man moves quickly, hand disappearing in his jacket and reappearing with an inhaler.

Mrs. Gregorivich slaps the thing out of his hand, “Nah, I have the good stuff in my room.  I just need someone to pull it down from the closet for me.”  She smiles and her arms slither around Charles’s neck, “Be a dear and help Mummy.”

“No,” says Schmidt.  “Francis or Simon here has work to discuss.  Nevan can help you get your things.”

Charles smiles nervously while Nevan leads the old women out the room.  She mutters under breath before turning and grabbing a handful of Charles’s ass.  “I’ll be right back!”

Charles swallows thickly while putting space between himself and horny old woman.  “I’ll be waiting, darling.” 

Schmidt laughs at the scene when the woman finally exits.  “You must be one hell of a professional.  Good grief, kid.  How long did you put up with that?”

Charles sits down at the head of the table and sighs.  “Longer than I’d like to admit.  She’s a delightful mahjong player.”

Janos rolls his eyes and backs away from boss.  “This boy is playing all of us, like he does that old bat.  We should not trust a word he says.”  He eyes Raven with suspicion.  “Big arms for a secretary.”

Raven nervously crosses her arms.  “Pilates, sir.  And I am _not_ a secretary.  I’m a certified public accountant,” she adds proudly.  “I have five years of experience and I volunteer with low-income families.”  She looks around the house with an unsure smile, “And the elderly.”

Janos snaps off something in Spanish while pointing between Raven and Charles.

Schmidt sighs, “Take it down a notch, Janos.  We’re being perfectly cautious.  Aren’t we, Si?  We both have things the other wants and we both have a lot to lose if either of us is lying.  Why I bet you can’t wait to get out from under that bloodthirsty maniac, am I right?”

Charles smiles with all his teeth, “My husband is a perfectly sane and well-hung man.  I rather like him at this stage.”  That’s the truth at least.  But it’s not what Schmidt wants to hear, “Still… making my own way in the world sounds more appealing than keeping some fake oath I made in front of the judge.  I’ve put enough on the side for myself.  Working on the side and whatnot…”  He smirks like its joke and Schmidt grins. 

“What’s the old saying?  Once a ho…”

“Always an avid reader.”  Charles jokes.  He smiles, “But if you can guarantee my protection,” he raises his brow, “I don’t see why we can’t act like civilize people.  Just promise not to hurt Erik.  He’s been very kind to me and I’d hate to go to hell for betraying him.”

Janos circles around to Charles with a leather case under his arm.  “This is for you to sign.  We can start transferring property and funds immediately.”

“No,” says Charles.  “Not until Erik gets out.”

“What,” says Schmidt with narrowed eyes.  “That’s the opposite of what I want here, Si.  If you want him to live, then he has to stay in jail.  If he’s out, then he has to die.  Simple.”

“Not in the least,” says Charles.  He crosses his legs.  “If I divorce Erik, you can still get what you want.  He’ll be knocked down to a regular thug within a year.  You can be patient can’t you?”

Janos hisses and slams a pen on the table.  “Stop babbling, you whore!  Sign or I will shoot you in your big nose.”

Charles yawns, “I see why you’re so quiet now, Janos.  You haven’t anything interesting to say.”  He leans over to Raven and whispers, “Ignore him.  He’s just a nurse on steroids.”

Raven gives the men a nervous look as Janos stares them down.  “I’m sure he’s just a very dedicated worker, like myself.”  She tries smiling and Janos starts to reach for his sidearm.

“Back off, Janos.  I’m not going to say it again,” warns Schmidt.

The man finally relents and Raven clears her throat.  “I don’t really know what’s going on here, but I’d like to advise my client not to sign anything legally or financially binding without thorough consideration and review from myself and his lawyer.”  She pushes the briefcase away and slips on a pair of glasses as she puts her bag on the table.  “I have some materials here my client requested to show proof of his assets.  Would you like to review them before we agree on terms?”

Raven plays her part perfectly and Charles suspects she’s done this particularly con before.

Charles sits back and crosses his arms, “Understand that we’re still newly married.  Much of this is still in transition.  Erik still has to sign off on some things as he blankets his affairs with my name.”

“Your fake name.”

“The name he’s given me,” amends Charles.  “And if we try touching a penny of it before he gets out, the syndicate _will_ know.  Darwin and Azazel will knock down that door or hunt you down until what remains of your Hellfire Club is wiped out.  And there’s no love lost between me and the Brotherhood.  I’m in just as much danger if I’m caught crossing them.”

“Whereas,” adds Raven.  “Mr. Erik Lehnsherr married my client with a strict prenuptial agreement.  It includes the possibility of an amicable divorce settlement should he change his mind, and gives Charles more than half of his properties and investments.  Including,” she says opening her laptop.  She turns it to where Janos can see a list, “Business titles, deeds, including the Asteroid Hotel, a bookstore, five star restaurants, a private airline, medical research laboratories, and other commercial properties.  Franchises and corporations.  Oh!  And a gun store franchise?”  She looks back at Charles with a sour face, “I hate guns.”

“I’m sorry to hear that Miss Mallory,” Schmidt gives Janos a dark look.  “But understand if you two try to betray me, you will be shot in your pretty little face.  And that boy there will be back on a corner, giving five-dollar head.”

Charles feels his face redden and Raven looks at him with pity.   He wouldn’t be surprised if it was real.  But she also acts afraid, “I’d hate to be shot anywhere, sir.  But as my client said, we can’t move forward without a divorce or his husband finalizing the transfers.  These things take times.  And it’s harder to accomplish with the man in jail.”  She adds smoothly.

Sebastian considers them both then closes his eyes hums.  He’s so quiet and still that Charles thinks he went to sleep.  He only stirs after Janos shakes his shoulder.  And then, with his eyes still closed, he smiles.  “It’s a deal.  But there’s a catch.”

Charles rolls his eyes, “Of course there is.”

Sebastian keeps his eyes closed.  “I can see myself in the mirror.  Late in the afternoon, perfect lighting on my cheekbones, sharply dressed.  I looked so good.”  He opens his eyes and turns them on Charles.  “Don’t I still look good, Si?”

“You look great, Seb.”  He fakes a smile.  Never mind the thinning hair, Charles has never liked the man’s face.  He can’t muster any pity for Schmidt’s disability.  Greater and better-looking men have been in wheelchairs.  He’s still a villainous cunt, thinks Charles.  “But if we could focus on the matter at hand…”

“I am.  Totally focused.  You know what happened today, Si?  You’ll never believe it!  Tell him Janos!”

Janos opens his mouth to speak but Schmidt breaks out in a laugh.  Janos closes his mouth.

“Honestly!  It was fantastic!  I moved a toe!  A whole toe, below the neck!  Moved!  My so called ‘imminent organ failure’ was just a con.  Can you believe that?  I may be up and back to par in no time.”

Charles looks between Schmidt and Janos.  Whereas Schmidt is beaming and hopeful, his old confidence shining out of every pore on his pointy little head, Janos looks… guilty.  Charles narrows his eyes at the two men, but smiles at Schmidt.  “That’s great news, Seb.  I can’t tell you what a relief it is to my conscious.”  He leans over gestures to his side, “You sure you don’t need any extra parts?”

“Sir,” cautions Raven.  “I don’t think you have to add any more assets.  Whatever else could Mr. Schmidt want?”  She asks with raised eyebrow.  “I’d imagine this rather lucrative offer would be more than enough to settle a score.”

“What do you know, princess?”  Schmidt’s face falls into scowl.  “About shit bags and complete dependence.  Hm?  There’s no way to settle the score between me and this little whore.  Short of cutting him open.  This is just side business.  Lehnsherr deserver everything coming to him.  Do you know what I had to put up with, hiding underground while that albino bitch took over an organization built by real kings?  You don’t have any idea what I’ve done, and the _least_ I’ve earned for repayment is some cash and business fronts.  But there is indeed more.”  He looks back to Charles.  “You’re coming home with me, kitten.  And any and everything I can think of, will be shoved up that round ass of yours until I’m happy.  This is non-negotiable.  You stole my life, you little fuck!”

Charles doesn’t let the rant or the fear tactics appear to scare him.  Though he’s a little terrified of what Janos would creatively do following orders.  He sighs and looks to Raven for support and finds her almost dropping her act.  She looks ready to kill both of the men, but as they discussed earlier, they don’t know how much of Hellfire Schmidt taken back.  They don’t want to start a war with the club after Erik recently made peace.  And they need Sebastian to clear Erik’s name. 

Raven clears her throat, “That’s sounds like a personal request, sir.  I’m afraid I’m only certified to deal with the assets presented to you.   You and my client will have to hammer out those more intimate details later.  But for now, will this do?”  She strains as she fakes a smile and hands over a binder of printouts.  She calmly packs her bags while still playing the professional.

Janos take the papers and looks to his boss.  Schmidt is tense, his neck rigid and mouth pursed.  He looks like he may be having a seizure.  Janos speaks for him, “Until the next meeting, then.  Good evening.”  He quickly wheels Sebastian backwards into the kitchen. 

Charles and Raven breathe a sigh of relief and try to exit the wretched house, but Nevan blocks them at the door.  “The boss wants you back here next Friday.  You come alone, you got it.”  It’s not a question, and he shoves the two of them out the door.

Charles and Raven walk away quickly, finding the modest little sedan she bought just for her cover.

They sit outside the house for a long moment while Raven puts away her bag and pulls out her phone.  She turns the volume up.  “I planted bugs under the kitchen table, in the clip holding the paper together, and that big guy’s coat.”

They listen in for a few minutes and learn that Nevan is being sent to follow Raven around.  They call the guard watching Erik and tell him to keep and an ear out for Charles when he visits.  And they discuss not letting Mrs. Gregorivich in on the plans.  Though it’s her arm of the Red Omega Gang that’s really enforcing Schmidt’s claim to Hellfire Club.

Raven shakes her head, “I’ll keep recording.  Maybe they’ll slip up and say something about Frost soon.  Then we can clear Erik ourselves and I can send Darwin and Angel in to clean this mess up.”  She looks over at Charles and pats him on the back.  “I’m proud of you, Charles.  You’re good at holding yourself together in a tough situation.  We will it make it through this and Schmidt will pay for everything he put you through.”

Charles is not crying, he tells himself.  “Thank you.  I’m too old for hand-holding now.  But thank you.”

Raven smiles and reaches up to ruffle his hair before taking his hand and giving it a squeeze.  “I’m all about non-consensual hand-holding.” 

Charles barks out a laugh as they drive away.

* * *

 

Charles spends the next week working with Raven from the house.  Darwin trusts her enough to let the two go off together.  The two of them share updates and listen to tapes over lunch and on ‘shopping trips’.  But since Darwin doesn’t know about Schmidt and the plan to free Erik, he doesn’t do much to stop the rumors that they’re sleeping together.  Raven thinks this is hilarious. 

Its Alex that shares the joke running with the boys.  They think Raven is setting herself to be the new boss and has staked claim on the boss’ chick.  He happily turns in a stick-figure sketch of Raven wearing strap-on while fucking Charles against a window.  Charles does not find it funny at all.  Darwin covers his eyes, “That does cross the line, guys.  Who’s doing this shit?”  He peeks out at the paper, “And drawing so badly with my good sharpies?”

Alex shrugs, “I don’t know but it’s funny as hell.”

Charles makes a face and balls up the picture, “That’s gross.  She’s like the sister I never I asked for.  There’s something seriously wrong with your small-minded goons.  I am allowed to have friends, aren’t I?  What about you?  What about Angel?”  He tries to explain and compare his easy friendship with Raven to the one he has with Angel. 

But Darwin only teases him further, “Like I don’t know how many times you tried to get in her pants!”

Alex crosses his arms, “And I heard you were making eyes at my man before, princess.”  He moves to stand in front of Darwin, “Don’t think I’m not watching you.”

They’re only joking, but it feels _toxic_.  Charles throws up his hands and storms out of the room.  He’s tempted to take a swing at Alex for offending his honor, but honestly he thinks.  He’s never had any honor to offend.  The thought saddens him and Charles retreats to Erik’s bedroom.

The phone rings unexpectedly and Charles is happy to accept the charges from the prison.  Especially when at first Erik repeatedly asks, “What are you wearing?”

They play on the phone for a nearly half an hour.  It’s a relief, but Charles doesn’t tell Erik about his problems in the house.  Instead he tries, “I wanted to go back to my place for a few days.  There’s… too much fresh air here.  I like it better in the city, you know.”  He lies.  But Erik shuts him down.

“It’s not safe.  Not yet.  I’ll be home soon, Freckles.  Don’t worry.  Just hang in there until I sort this.  Then we can do whatever you want, wherever you want.  Go on another trip.  Redecorate.  Buy a baby on the black market,” he laughs.  “Anything at all.  Just wait for me, Charles.  Promise me you’ll be there when I get out.”

Charles makes his promises and tries to change the conversation.  The heavy tone isn’t helping his present bout of melancholy.  Instead he talks about trying on several of their crazy honeymoon costumes and they both laugh over it.  But after he hangs up, Charles feels alone again and even more desperate to get Erik back.

Later that day, Raven reports there’s been a great deal of activity from the Hellfire club.  Angel is investigating a separate problem and reports that civil war has broken out with their minor gangs.  The top gang doesn’t even have a named leader.  Raven suspects this is Schmidt as he still hides from the world, but knowing that isn’t helping things.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s almost five days after their initial meeting at Gregorivich’s, when a special report appears on the news.  Warren Worthington, the handsome bastard is grinning from ear to ear.  Emma Frost is not dead.  She appears to be in coma in a hospital out of state after suffering a horrific accident.  Erik will be released as soon as the details are hammered out.  Whatever they have against him can’t be verified if she’s alive and unconscious. 

The house erupts with noise as the boys celebrate.

Charles is quiet as his phone buzzes.

 

_5528115555:  Good news on the TV today?  Talk to you soon, kid._

Charles wonders what they’ve done to the fabulous miss Frost.  Perhaps she’ll wake up and handle Schmidt herself.  It’s hard to think of strategy when the boys in the house are getting rowdy.  He wishes even more he was surrounded by the sycophantic lackeys.  He can at least tolerate Alex, and he respects Darwin, but the rest are more than he can stomach.  He idly wishes he were back at Ororo’s surrounded by those of similar dispositions.  The world’s oldest profession has a way a making everyone in it stare back with the same eyes.  Their all too jaded to follow anyone blindly.

Charles thinks most of Erik’s fanboys have missed this lesson of life. 

Bobby slaps Charles on the back as he rushes by, “Come on, we gotta go get that jailbird.  I’m driving!”

Alex smoothly takes the keys from him, “Don’t be stupid.  He’s probably not getting out today.  And we already got our orders.  Charles, you’re staying put until the boss is released.  No day trips with anyone.  Not even Angel or Raven.  Alright?  Now go find something nice and lacey to welcome him home, princess.” 

He tries to ruffle Charles’s hair and Charles snaps at him for it.  “Fuck off!  I’m not a kept hen!  He’s my husband not my owner and I can do whatever I want!”  Charles stomps away to the bedroom and slams the door.

Between his muted anger of being held up in this house with the minion babysitters and knowing Sebastian Schmidt is going to make demands for his favor, Charles wants to scream.  Or punch something.  He feels like he’s failing Erik all the same.  And poor Erik.  He deserves better than a sour-faced welcome home. 

Charles paces the room, thinking of the things he will have to do in the coming days.  How will get out from under his nanny state?  He and Raven made up some fake divorce documents and he has to show them to Schmidt.  But he’s having trouble with signing them.  “Irreconcilable differences…” he reads and rereads the first page before tossing them on the bed.  He follows the papers and stretches out and tries to sleep.  It’s all going to come to a head whether he wants it to or not.  Raven has calmly put his mind to rest about one anxiety, promising to never to tell Erik about his past.

But after everything they’ve been through together… and learning what he has from Raven.  Charles wants to tell Erik everything.  He wants to take the man home and share his real name and history.  Show his real face.  Charles looks around the bedroom and, like the kitchen, there’s very little of him here.  He noticed Erik had shipped some of the honeymoon costumes here and racked them in the walk-in closet.  But for the odd photo of Charles, or one of his books, there’s nothing.  Charles thinks about how he’s kept Erik at arm’s length for their entire relationship and the realization dawns on him.  There’s nothing of him here because _he_ didn’t want to be here before.

Charles sinks in the bed, worries and doubts ruining the little good news he had today.

He sleeps with his arms wrapped around Erik’s pillow.

 

* * *

 

 

Charles wakes up to the sound of someone crying in the room.

He sits up but sees no one.  The sound is bouncing off the walls and the room is dark in the early evening light.  It gives Charles the creeps at it continues.  But he stays put, “Who’s… there?”  He asks thinking of every ghost movie he’s ever seen.  Maybe the ghost of Erik’s grandfather is here, disapproving of the little whore sleeping in his grandson’s bed.  Or Erik’s father.  Or mother…

The sobbing ebbs, and the room grows quiet.  Charles is shaking when he gets the nerve to crawl to the edge of the bed.  He clasps a hand over his mouth, surprised by the sight of his husband, half naked on the floor.  “Erik!  You idiot, you scared me half to death!”  He climbs down, pushing papers off Erik’s bare chest and starts kissing the man.  Erik is still and quiet under him.  His tear-stained face slows Charles down.  “What’s wrong?  Darling are you alright?”

Erik grabs him by the head, his hand twisting in Charles’s hair.  “Am I alright?  You want a divorce and you wonder if I’m alright?”

Charles struggles in Erik’s grasp as he explains.  “It’s not real.”  Erik yanks and Charles can’t think around the pain at the back of his skull.  “We were all considering different options to get you out!  I don’t even remember how that one came about…” he lies.  “It’s not real, Erik.  Just a stupid option.  I’m sorry I left it.  It’s not even worth being upset over.  Let me go.”  He tries to pull free, but Erik holds fast.

“The boys said you were sleeping around!  They said you didn’t want to come to get me.  You’ve been angry about being in the house.  You’re fucking Raven while I was locked up.  You didn’t want to move in here after the honeymoon… You don’t want to be with me, do you?  Not really?”  He cries again and his face looks so open and broken, Charles wants to cry too. 

“It’s not real, Erik.  I swear it.  It was stupid to leave it out or even consider it…  I’m sorry.  I’m not sleeping around.  I haven’t been with anyone but you since we were married.  You know that.  I swear it, Erik.  Please.”  He tries to wrestle free again but Erik flips him over and pins him to the floor.

“I don’t believe you.  There’s always something distant in your eyes, Charles.  You hate this.  You resent me for loving you so much.”

“No!”  Charles beats at Erik’s chest.  “That’s not true!  You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.  I told you, I told you.”  He pleads with his eyes, “I meant it everything I said back on that stupid island.  I love you.  I need time and I need space but most of all… I need you.”  He cries while trying to pull Erik closer.  Erik sets him free and climbs away to pace on the other side of the room.  Charles stays on the floor, pulling his legs up.  “I’m sorry.”

Erik considers him while standing near the window.  He sighs, “That’s not good enough anymore.”

Charles stands up wobbly legs.  He’s head throbs and chest hurts.  He’s truly afraid of Erik for the first time in a long while.  “Erik?”

“Get out.”

Charles raises his hands, “Erik wait.  You’re not thinking clearly…”

“Get out, before I throw you out.”  Erik turns his back on Charles.  “I’m tired of hating myself because some little slut doesn’t love me back.  Get out, Charles.”

Charles almost falls to the floor.  He feels winded like he’s been punched in gut.  “You don’t mean that.  You’re confused and I get it darling.  This is just a stupid misunderstanding.”  He tries to keep his head but ends up shouting, “You can’t believe your little urchins over me!  After everything I agreed to just to be with you!  You’ll take their word over mine?!  You don’t trust me?”

Erik shakes his head, and this time quietly.  “Get out.”

Charles sits on the bed and crosses his arm.  “No.”  He cries, “No!  You’ll have to throw me out on the bloody street!  This is the most stupid thing you’ve ever done in the long history of stupid things.  I can’t believe…”  He sobs, “Some stupid paperwork and jealous whispers is enough to change your mind.  I’m not lying, Erik!  I love you.”

“Stop saying that.”  Erik turns to face him finally.  “I don’t want to hear it anymore.  You don’t mean it!”

“I do!  And I always will!  Even when you’re acting like complete asshat!”  He stands up and marches over to Erik, like a lamb staring a lion down.  Still, he puts his hands on Erik’s face and looks the man in the eye.  “I mean it.  I promise.  I love you. And I want you.  Only you.  I swear…”  He leans in to kiss away the tears on Erik face.

Erik falls apart in his arms and buries his face in Charles’s shoulder.  “I hate thinking like this…”

“Me too,” agrees Charles.  He combs his fingers through Erik’s hair.  “I don’t want to fight you, Erik.  I’m always fighting.  I shouldn’t have to fight you, too.” 

Erik is quiet as pulls Charles closer and Charles takes it as permission to climb the taller man and wrap his legs around Erik’s narrow waist.

Erik walks them over to the bed and lays Charles down gently.  Charles keeps his legs fixed, settling Erik on top of him.  They kiss each other gently.  Erik’s eyes are closed tight.  He hands skim up and down Charles’s shoulders and neck.  Charles brushes his fingers over Erik’s face, trying to wiping all the worry lines.  He kisses Erik at the corner of his mouth and Erik stills completely.  “I mean it,” says Charles.

Erik’s hands comb through Charles’s hair, rubbing apologies at the nape of his neck.  Charles smiles, “Its okay.  I know you’d never really hurt me.”  Erik hovers over his face, his lips at the sliding over Charles chin as he nuzzles him.  Charles is waiting for the promise kiss to be returned, but Erik turns his head.  Instead of kissing Charles back he hides his face while his hands pull their clothes opens.  Charles whines and tries to speed things up but Erik keeps his pants on.  He takes and pins Charles down with one hand while pressing soft kisses to his neck.

Charles leans into every touch.  Erik feels like sunlight to him and smiles when he thinks of the last time they were in bed together.  “This is third time we’ve had make up sex.  Remember last time?”  He thinks of the island and the sand and Erik’s handsome face under the moonlight.  “And I told you we shouldn’t fight just to have good sex.  It should always be this good between us.”  He starts to say ‘I love you’ again but Erik covers his mouth.  Charles smiles under the hand.  He assumes he’s talking too much and ruining the moment.

Erik leans back just enough to pull Charles’s pants down.  He pushes Charles up the bed enough to reach over and get their lube.  He foregoes stretching Charles, slicking his cock up instead and pushing Charles to the side.  Charles goes with it, knowing he’ll regret it later but not willing to muck up Erik’s return any more than he already has.

He turns his face into the same pillow he was hugging when he woke up.  The fat, round head of Erik’s cock is stuck just within the ring of muscle.  Charles makes a pinched face.  “That’s too tight, Erik…”  He reaches back and holds Erik still.

Erik pauses and lets Charles breath through the adjustment, relaxing around the tip of Erik’s cock.  He sighs and thinks of the first time he learned to prepare himself before dealing with johns who couldn’t care less about his safety or feelings.  But this is Erik.  And there’s enough hurt between them.  He thinks he can shoulder this discomfort for a while and Erik can make it up to him later.  Loving someone is a lot of hard work, he thinks.  “ _The things I do for love_.”

Erik is considerate, slow moving and careful.  Kissing Charles’s neck while a hand slips up his shirt to gently brush his nipples.  He’s controlled and quietly held together where only a moment ago he was a sobbing mess.  Charles reaches back to comb his fingers through Erik’s hair.  The words keep bubbling out him.  And he wants to say them again but settles for mouthing ‘I love you’ while Erik carefully picks up pace.  Erik buries his face in Charles’s neck and holds tight onto his hip with one hand while the other cradles his head.

When Charles feels open and ready he tugs on Erik’s hair before leading the hand on his hip to his own cock.  Their fingers knit while they pump Charles’s cock together.  Erik starts fucking him from behind, snapping his hips against Charles while he drives in and out and making them both moan with force of it.

Charles is gasping for release, the drag of Erik inside him makes his legs feel weak.  He hooks a hand under his own knee and pulls it up to give Erik more room.  The angle is better and Charles is lit up from the inside, moaning again as Erik pushes into him.  Erik’s thumb rubs against the slit of Charles cock and sets him off.  He keeps his hand moving, working Charles through orgasm while he pulls out and rubs against Charles’s lower back.  The head of his cock skips up and down Charles’s cleft before catching at the hole again and sinking in.  When buried, he leans over and bites Charles on the neck.

“Ah!” Charles is shaking and his watery cries bouncing off the walls in the room.

Erik snaps his hips harder, squeezing bruises into Charles’s hips.  Charles drops his hand and leg so Erik changes their position.  He turns Charles over while he gets up on his knees.  Charles goes with it, laying on his stomach and waiting for Erik to start fucking him again.  He’s surprised to feel fingers, then tongue.  Erik’s mouth on him makes Charles feels like he could be hardening again and he humps his over-sensitive cock into the bed below him.  “Erik!”

Erik stays, tonguing the hole and biting Charles hard on the cheek before he gets up.   Charles looks back sees his husband stroking his own cock, which is so dark and beautiful Charles feels his mouth watering.  Later, he thinks.  He’s going to suck Erik for all he’s worth later.  But right now he’ll let the man take whatever he wants.  They could duel over oral fixation afterwards.  He smiles to himself, thinking of all the ways he going to make to Erik come and cry out his name.  But first they have to move past this.  An ugly mass of doubt and mistrust was sitting between them and Charles wants to exile it.  He crosses his arms and looks back at Erik, his eyes heavy lidded and small smile to his lips. 

But Erik doesn’t look at his face, he’s focused on fingering him again.  More lube and scissoring.  Then pulling Charles up on his knees, and spreading him apart.

Charles gasps as Erik rocks into him.  He mewls and works his hips up to roll with every thrust.  He’s definitely getting hard again and Erik is still taking his sweet time. 

Erik falls over him, his chest slips and slides with Charles’s back as he ruts.  Charles is already close to coming, when Erik bites again, sinking his teeth in hard at the same mark.

Charles comes then, and Erik follows.  They fall to the mattress and Charles can’t bother to care about the weight covering him.  He smiles instead and tries turning around.  He feels almost giddy until he sees Erik’s face.  He tries kissing away the cold expression, but Erik is still like a statue.  He swats away Charles’s hands.

“Darling…” starts Charles, but Erik covers his mouth again.  Charles yanks the hand away and shoves at Erik’s shoulder, “Stop that!  Talk to me!  Erik…”

“Get out.  I’m not going to say it again.”

“No…” Charles stares at the man, still feeling Erik inside him.  The marks, the pain in his shoulder.  “Erik no.”

Erik gets out of the bed quickly and wipes off his thighs with Charles’s shirt before pulling his pants back on.  “Get out,” he repeats.  When Charles doesn’t move he tries to pull him out of the bed.  Charles slaps him hard, and they both go still with the shock of it.  Erik grits his teeth and grabs Charles by the legs.  So Charles punches his shoulder, flails and kicks. 

“No!  No!”  He kicks out as Erik picks him up and throws him over his shoulder.  Charles slaps and scratches at his husband.  “No!”  He’s at a loss for words.  He completely blindsided.  Erik tosses him on the floor and goes to the closet.  He grabs a shirt and pair of jeans and tosses them at Charles.

Charles doesn’t try to get dress, instead he scrambles to his feet and tries going back to the bed.  Erik catches him and they slap at each other hands again.  The paradox of two people fighting but trying not to hurt each other.  Chalres knows how to hurt a man much bigger than him.  And Erik knows how to kill.  They’re both holding back but Erik out muscles Charles.  He finally gets him up and out of the bed.

“No!  We just made love!  I let you… We’re okay.  We’re going to be okay!  Let me go, Erik!”

Erik’s stony face starts to crack, “We are not okay.  And I don’t want you here… anymore.”  He grabs a handful of Charles’s hair again and yanks until he cries out. 

Charles goes limp to make it harder on Erik to move, but the man just hoists him up again.  He’s naked and flailing madly on his husband’s shoulder.  Erik opens the door and calls out.  Charles is making too much noise to realize Darwin and Alex have come to answer their boss.

“Take him home and keep him safe.  I don’t want him back in this house.  Ever again.” He stands Charles up on his feet and while Charles is still lashing out he gently takes him by the face, “I don’t ever want to see you again.”  He leans in as if to kiss him at the corner of the mouth.  But it doesn’t connect.  There’s no promise and suddenly Charles feels chilled to the bones.  Erik pushes him into the arms of Darwin, shuts the door to the bedroom.

Charles is too shocked to move at first.  When he realizes what’s happened, he kicks out again and frees himself of Darwin’s grasp.  He rushes the door, but Alex sweeps him up.  Darwin opens the door to the room across the hall and grabs a sheet.  He tries wrapping it around Charles, but he fights that too.

Charles is manhandled by the two of them all the way downstairs.  They pass by other boys and Charles wonders which of the little liars set him up.  He spits and hisses at all of them as Darwin and Alex carry him out to the car.

Alex drives while Darwin sits in the backseat, rocking Charles while he cries.  “I don’t understand.  We just made love.  He won’t let me say it.  He won’t let me say it…”

Darwin holds him tight, “I’m sorry Charles.  I have to follow orders.  But my orders are to protect you, okay?  You heard him right?”  He looks Charles in the eye.  “I’ll talk to him when he cools off.  But if he was really done with you, you’d be dead.  Not protected.”

That’s of little comfort to Charles.

When he finally gets home to all of his things, his books and office.  The space he carved out for himself with Erik’s money… He falls to his knees.  And stays there.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *climbs out of a hole*  
> *slips*  
> *falls back into the hole*  
> *distant screaming*


	10. Wishful Thinking

Darwin and Alex makes sure the apartment is secure before they get Charles up and on the couch.

Darwin sits with him and directs Alex, “You stay up here while I go back to the house and talk to Erik.”  He helps Charles to settle on the couch and wipes his eyes, “Rest, Charles.”

Charles turns to his back on the man, and buries his face in the couch.  He doesn’t understand.  It’s like he’s living in a nightmare and he can’t wake up. He still covered in the stolen sheet but he feels cold and exposed.  Darwin pulls it up over his naked shoulder.

Charles is shivering and Darwin rubs some heat into his back, “I’m sorry Charles.  I’m so sorry.  I’m gonna talk some sense into the lunk head.  He’s going to be back here begging for forgiveness before dinner.”  He gets up and leaves Charles with squeeze on the shoulder.

Charles covers his head with a pillow but he can still make out their voices near the door.

“I’ll be back,” repeats Darwin.  “Stay up here and don’t let him out of your sight.  Do not let Azazel or Logan up here.”

“What,” asks Alex.

Darwin whispers, but Charles can just make it out.  “They’re the only contractors too professional to give a damn.  _Do not_ let them up here.  I’ll be back.”  He calls out to Charles, “Don’t worry, Charles.  Everything is going to be fine.”

Charles listens as the door opens and closes.  Alex walks over to the couch and leans over.  “I’m sorry, too.  You were right about things going too far.  If I thought for a second this could happen, I would have shut that shit down.  I’m sorry, Princess.”

Charles sniffles and sits up.  He looks up at Alex’s sad, sincere face.  And wants to scratch his eyes out.  “Fuck off, Alex.”   

The other man walks off to the kitchen and gives Charles some space and quiet.

Charles looks down at his lap, his body barely covered in the sheet they dragged him out in.  He stinks of sweat and sex.  He doesn’t want to think of what his neighbors saw earlier while he was half carried up to his apartment.  Charles gets up and walks to the bathroom.  He tries not to look at himself in any of the mirrors.  But the vivid purple bite mark on his neck keeps drawing his eyes.  He drops the sheets and starts a bath.  Confusion and anger whirl around in his mind.  He’s disgusted with both himself and Erik.  For letting Erik do this.  For letting things get so bad.  For not being stronger. 

Charles sinks in the water and hopes Alex keeps to his post outside.  If it weren’t for Darwin’s warning, Charles would have thought this was just a bad breakup.  Now the line he dropped Schmidt is real.  He really is in the Brotherhood’s sights. 

But he’s not alone.  He tries to remember that as soaks and soaks.  He’s not alone.  Darwin might come through and Erik will realize he’s been stupid.  Then come back here like the romantic sod he is, and beg for forgiveness.  Charles nods to himself and lets the thought anchor him.  Raven wouldn’t stand for this either.  Nor Ororo or Remy.  He’s not alone.  He has friends too.   Charles thoughts turn to his internment in the house and to every sideways look he got from Bobby.  The little jibes and scornful remarks.

He slaps the water, “I’m going to cut his fucking tongue out.”

He stays in the bath for long a time, resting his sore muscles.  Washing his hair and dozing in the hot water.

When he finally gets out, he puts on a thinning red shirt and a pair of pajama bottoms before climbing into bed.

He’s about to nod off when he hears a thumping in the living room.  Charles sits up and checks the security camera.  The hall way is clear.  The roof is clear.  The kitchen and living room seem empty.  He calls out, “Alex?” 

Charles gets up to investigate.  Thinking the other man has left the apartment for some reason.

“Little mouse.”

Charles looks to where Azazel sits on the sofa.  He’s a calm still as he watches Charles with narrowed eyes.  Charles feels adrenaline rushing, kicking his fight or flight response into high gear.  He squeaks out, “Where’s Alex?”

The man stands up and even with the distance between them he seems to loom over Charles.  “He’s taking a little nap.  We need some privacy.”

Charles shakes his head before running back to his room and slamming the door shut.  He locks it and wonders how much good it’ll do.

Azazel’s voice comes through the door.  “Back away from the frame, little kitten.  I don’t want to hit you.”  It’s all the warning he gives before two gunshots ring out in the apartment.  The lock is blasted away and Charles runs for cover behind the bed.  Azazel pushes the door open without difficulty and walks into the room.  “I just want to chat.  About important company affairs.  Get up and make this easy on yourself.”

“Fuck you!”  Charles starts to crawl under the bed, the man grabs him by the ankle and drags him out.  Charles kicks and fights but Azazel manhandles him until he’s pinned on top of the bed.  Charles writhes under him.  “Let go of me!  Get off!  Get off!”  Charles kicks and twists but it doesn’t work.

Azazel knocks him in the chest hard enough to wind him and keep him still.  He’s flipped over and his hands are pulled back.  Charles doesn’t register the pair of handcuffs being locked on his wrists until it’s too late.  “Up we go,” says Azazel.  He gets up and drags Charles with him to the kitchen.  There he props the smaller man up on the counter.  “Now.  To discuss things civilly without all the scratching and biting.”

Charles tries to head-butt the assassin but Azazel yanks his hair back.  Charles screams.  He’s grown very tired of having his hair pulled today.  “What do you want!”  he spits out. 

Azazel backs away from counter to give Charles a once over.  “You’ve wasted a lot of my friend’s time.  He’s was all starry eyed but now I think he sees you for what you are.”  He comes closer and drags a finger down Charles’s chest.  “What we always knew.  That you are cheap and easily bought.”  He steps back and pulls out his wallet.  Azazel smiles at Charles before slamming the thing on the counter.  “How much?”

Charles stops being afraid.  Anger is always a more active emotion and he’s angry now.  To think that one of Erik’s closest friends sees so little in him.  It makes kicking out easy, and very satisfying when Azazel folds in half, clutching his balls.  Charles hops off the counter.  He quips, “More than you can afford, I’m sure.”  He starts to run to the door but Azazel fires a shot that just misses his head.  Charles stops and turns slowly to the man. 

“Good show.  You passed the test.  Bravo…” he coughs as he straightens up.  “I told Erik I didn’t believe this noise about your unfaithfulness.  I saw you.  I saw you grieve for him before.  It must be something like love, yes?”  He walks carefully to Charles with his hands out.  “And now I believe it.”

Charles doesn’t trust this.  “Darwin said you might try to kill me if Erik ordered it.”

“And he’s right.  But Erik didn’t order it.  Instead he’s crying like a little baby for his blanket.  He wants you back.  So I come to fetch you, little mouse.”

“No,” Charles backs away.  “I don’t trust you.  Where’s Alex.”

The man shrugs, “Sleeping.”  He points back at the guestroom, “Like a little baby.  I’m surrounded by babies.”

Charles shakes his shoulders, but indicating his restraints.  “Take these off.  And then we’ll talk.”

“No,” says Azazel.  “I have to be sure.  I believe you have some affection for my friend.  This is undeniable.  But are you the traitorous rat that’s working for the Hellfire?  This is an important matter, Charles.  We have to get to the bottom of it today.”  He pulls out a little knife.  “Now.  I know you are intimate with the ways this sort of persuasion.  Thieving whores usually are.  But I don’t need to rob you, little Charles.  I just need the absolute truth.  And if I have to cut it out of you.  I will.”

Now would be a good time, Charles thinks, for one of those good friends to make a dramatic entrance.

But no one comes and Azazel pushes him up against the front door.  “This is simple.  I will ask the question and you will answer truthfully.  The more convincing you are, the less this hurts.”

“Azazel please,” Charles looks the man in the eye looking for any shred of sympathy.  “Please don’t hurt me.  Please.  I would never do anything to hurt Erik.  I love Erik.”

“Rule one,” says Azazel skimming the knife down Charles chest.  The blade is so sharp it leaves little nicks in the thin shirt.  “I don’t want any blabbering, Charles.  Don’t spill your guts.   I can do that for you.”  He pushes the knife, and it sinks in about inch before he pulls away. 

Charles gasps, the sudden sharp pain in his middle surprising him.  He looks down and sees blood pouring from the wound.  “Fuck!  Az, you can’t!”

“Rule two is I certainly can.  This is the nature of my business, little mouse.  And to protect my interests I will do anything.  I try not to treat my own merchandise with such a heavy hand.”  He strokes the side of Charles’s head, “And you are a prime cut.  Smart.  Beautiful in a strange sort of way.  A mouth that just… mmm.”  He lays the flat edge of the knife across Charles’s lips, staining them with blood before moving back to his prey’s vulnerable gut.

Charles licks his mouth and whimpers when he tastes the blood.  A slow smile creeps across Azazel’s face, as if he’s hearing music with every one of Charles’s panicked exhales.

“I would loan you out for top dollar if you were one of mine.  But Erik saw you first.  And he is like a brother to me.  But you have him by the cock, don’t you my little mouse.  Now the truth.”  He presses blade again at Charles’s middle.  “Who do you work for?”

“No one!”  Charles cries, the pain making him dizzy.  “No one!  I love Erik!  Please!”

Azazel shakes his head, “I’m not convinced yet.”  He presses again and stabs another shallow hole.  Charles reasons the man is only giving him non-lethal cuts but they do hurt like hell.  And there’s no reason to think he won’t be left here to bleed out. 

“No one!  I’m trying to help Erik,” he admits.  “That’s all I’ve been up with Raven.  We talk about how to help Erik.  But the damn… those little sycophants that trail him around are a bunch of jealous backstabbing dogs.  They say anything they want about me.  They lie!”

Azazel tsks and trails the knife further down.  The point digs into Charles’s hip.  “They are tested.  Proven in the line of real duty.  What do we know about you?  How can we really trust your word?”

Charles sobs, tossing his head.  His answer hasn’t changed.  “I love Erik.  You can go fuck yourself for all care.  I love Erik and if I die today I’m going to haunt that massive fucking idiot ‘til the day _he_ dies.”

Azazel leans in closer, grabbing Charles by neck and turning his head.  He licks Charles on the cheek and sniffs just under his ear.  “Hm,” he hums after another lick.  “Those are most sincere tears I have ever tasted.”  He backs away with a sinister smile.  “I believe you.”

Charles is pushed away from the door and knocked down to the floor.  Azazel adjusts his pants before opening the door and letting in another guest.  “McCoy.  Stop cowering and come here.”

The young doctor rushes into the room when he spots Charles.  “What happened?”

Charles looks up at Azazel, “He happened, that fucking maniac.”

Azazel shrugs, “Another patient awaits you in the office.  He’s got a little bump on the head.”  He smirks before leaving Charles, bleeding out in the hands of Erik’s doctor.

* * *

 

Charles’s wounds are superficial but still painful.

He almost feels bad for every bad john and mark he’s ever had to cut in his short life.  Almost.  Most of them did deserve it.  But Charles doesn’t feel it was fair of Azazel to knock down his door and try torturing him.  Alex is slow to wake up from a very bad blow to the head.  McCoy thinks it would be better to admit him to a hospital and calls an ambulance.  Charles is propped up in his bed, bandaged but in less danger than his personal guard.

Darwin returns with Raven and rips through the apartment when he learns about Azazel’s visit.  “I’ll kill him with my bare hands!  How could Erik let him do that?!”

Charles tries to calm him, “Don’t.  Just go to the hospital and see about Alex.  I’ll be fine here.  We didn’t want them to send the police so I hid in my room when the paramedics came up.”

Darwin claws at his own face, “This is my fault.  This is all my fault….”

“Stop, Armando.  Just go see to Alex.  Azazel was just trying to scare us.”

Raven agrees, “Go on.  I’ll stay with Charles.  If anyone else is sent up here, I’ll deal with them.”  She gives him a look that says she won’t pull punches and Darwin finally agrees.  He leaves but apologizes again and before rushing off to check on his boyfriend.

With the apartment quiet and Hank satisfied that Charles won’t die from his cuts, Raven locks the place down.  She orders a pizza and helps clean up the mess Azazel made in the bedroom.  They end up in the bed, watching _Big Jake_ and eating in the bed.

Charles is quiet for most of the movie and Raven doesn’t press.  Her gun is out on the nightstand she keeps the picture in picture feed of the front hallway in the corner of screen.  “Erik’s going to go ballistic when he hears about this.”

“I don’t want to talk about Erik,” Charles sighs.  He watches the scene unfold as a precious little boy is stolen from his family by very bad men.  This was always one of his favorite John Wayne movies.  “Did you hear anything interesting from the house of evil?”

She sits up and pulls out her phone.  They listen as Nevan complains about his duties to Schmidt.  Then Janos takes a very long call with an angry woman.

“Who’s that?” 

Raven skips ahead, “I think it’s the Black Queen, another head in the Hellfire club.  She’s a human trafficker.  Moving people for all kind of work across the country.”

“Are you serious?”

“Shh…” she stops the tape.  “If she’s calling Janos then she’s working with him and Schmidt?”

“Or,” says Charles.  “Janos is betraying him.  He’s clearly lying to the man about his health.  Essex wasn’t kidding about his need for surgery.  But Janos has put him off it with a fake toe wiggle.  I could tell.”

“It doesn’t make sense,” she leans back in the bed and steals his pepperoni, “He’s loyal as hell to that old pervert.  He’s stuck with him all this time.”

Charles thinks on it, “Maybe he needed more resources to make his move.  He certainly has them now with Hellfire in the middle of civil war.  He can stick around and quietly plant his flag on top of the rubble.  And be king of the whole thing with what he thinks is Erik’s money.”

Raven puts away her phone.  “We’ll stop it before it gets that far.  We have our own little war to quell before Friday’s meeting.”

He nods.  It’s enough to have Erik home safe and surrounded by guards.  They can go to the last meeting and properly knock some heads together.  The pain in his middle makes it hard to move around comfortably so he settles for keeping still. “It’s Bobby’s crew stirring the pot.  I know it.  He hates me, the jealous little shit.  He’s probably got a hard-on for Erik or something.  And he dragged you into this as well.”

Raven doesn’t look as convinced, “I don’t know if it’s as simple as that.  I’ll find out what is really going on.  Angel has my back on this.  We’re not going let anything happen to you.  Erik hasn’t said anything else.  We just have to wait on him to cool off.”

It’s been a very long day for Charles, and he welcomes the chance to sleep it off with the prescription pain meds Hank left.  He falls asleep at the end, watching all of Big Jake’s friends sacrifice themselves for his grandson.

* * *

 

 

The next morning Charles wakes up to the smell of bacon.  The apartment is filled with noise.  His broken door is off the hinges and there’s the sound of power drilling in the next room.

He gets up to see what’s going on and finds a strange mix of company scattered around his kitchen and living room.

Remy is flipping pancakes.  Angel is drinking orange juice at the counter.  Raven is stealing bacon from a plate.   Darwin and Alex are perched on the couch.  Alex’s head is wrapped and Darwin is talking on the phone while giving his boyfriend a foot rub.  And strangest sight of all, Logan and Ororo are on the floor, repairing the door.

“Am I dead,” says Charles to the room.

They all turn to him at the same time and start talking a mile a minute.  He makes out that this is all Raven’s idea.  Erik has friends surrounding him, so should Charles.  He’s given space to sit on the armchair and told to put his feet up while Remy finishes breakfast.  Angel brings him a platter and kisses his forehead.  “I’ll get you some syrup.”  She skips off and Charles wonders if she’s killed anyone lately.

“I feel like I’m in the twilight zone.  Would someone please explain?”

 Ororo packs away her tools while Logan lifts the door to put it back up.  “We’re on your side.  At least until our brother gets his head out of his ass.”

Raven, “He should know better than to mess with family.  We even called in Magda and Old Nana.  I give it a day.”  She says confidently, “He’ll be back with flowers and candy begging for you to forgive him.”

“Which you won’t,” injects Remy.  Everyone moans like they’ve heard this before but he continues.  “I mean it, Jigglypuff.  I told you not let that old dirty bastard drag you in too deep.  Now you’re a stuck piglet at a barbecue.  There’s no going back to softness after that.  I say you drop him.  We can head out on our own.”

Logan drowns him out with the drill again.  When he down he comes kneel down by Charles, “When he says head out on your own, he means with me too bub.  I’ve been thinking of retiring from the grounds keeping business.”  He looks to Ororo.  “And I have excellent references to move on.”

It’s all a lot for Charles to take in at once.  He’s very moved by their stand of friendship, but at same time…

“I just want to go home.  And home is Erik now...”  Charles hasn’t bothered to check on the auction listings for the house his grandfather built since the honeymoon.   He was ready to give up on it, “I think if I could talk to him, we could move past this.”

There’s another collective moan from all his friends.  Charles shrinks in his seat as they judge him for wanting to go back to Erik.  Darwin is the first to speak up, “look, we’re not saying there’s no hope…”

“I am,” says Remy.  Angel slaps him on the back of the head.

“But,” continues Darwin.  “It’s not fair for you to have to apologize.  He was way out of line here.  And he put me in and everyone in this room in a fucked up position.  We’re your friends too, Charles.”

“I ain’t,” says Logan.  And Charles remember the man could up and kill him at any time.

Angel throws a slice of toast at the hairy man, “Shut up.”  She eyes Remy, “You two assholes deserve each other.”

Darwin gives Charles a more serious look, “And just when were you going to tells us all Schmidt was still alive?”

Charles looks wide-eyed at Raven but she shrugs, “He had to know sometime.  I’m good, but I rather not knock that door down by myself.  You’re out of the fighting picture, now.”  She gestures to his injuries.  “So I had to say something.  And Angel agrees with me.”

Angel nods, “Someone on our side is working for them.  I can smell it.  It’s like old Mischa used to say.  A rat always knows when he’s in with weasels.”  She frowns and looks away thoughtfully, “Actually that might be Tom Waits.”

Charles wipes his eyes with the back of his hand, hoping he has started to cry again.  He’s had enough crying for a lifetime.  “Then you believe me?  You know I had nothing to do with this?”

The room is quiet and Charles isn’t sure he believes this.  Perhaps all he had to do was ask for help, but it doesn’t seem real.  He’s not in some fairy tale.  And things usually go ass up where he’s concerned.  Sometimes literally.  He chokes back a sob as everyone stares at him with soft eyes.

“Oh my poor kitten,” says Remy.  He walks over to help Logan off the floor and somehow ends up in Charles’s lap. 

Charles groans as his heavier friend is probably pulling stitches.  “Okay, I feel the love.  Can we stop this now?  It hurts.”

* * *

 

A few hours later and Team Charles has t-shirts.  Thanks to Kitty.  She came over with some of the kids when Ororo left the hotel.

Ororo gloated over the fact every one of her girls sided with her when they left Azazel and his clients behind.  She sent most of them home to the Heart of Gold but the kids decided to stay with her and keep menacing the city.

Raven has told the others about what they’ve learned from Schmidt.  Charles hangs his head the whole time.  Darwin and Alex are affronted they weren’t trusted enough with this information.  Angel rolls with it all and decides to disappear again on a singular mission. Logan and Remy take up Darwin’s place downstairs.  Raven goes off on another fact-finding mission.  

All of Charles’s friends seem to know what to do, and one by one they all leave the apartment. 

Except for the kids and poor Alex.  Alex is resting in the guest bedroom while the kids post themselves on guard duty.  Ororo assured everyone that Azazel has already had a dressing down for his actions and that Erik would never send anyone to harm Charles.  But the kids take the dual threat of traitors and the Hellfire club very serious.  So somehow Kitty assumes command and commissions the t-shirts.

Tomorrow is Friday and Charles is in no condition to fight.  But at least he has an army at his back now. 

Charles likes the kids and their unjaded energy.  It’s so different from what he grew up with.  They may know things, but they aren’t so damaged they’ve lost hope for their futures.  It’s as Raven said.  If she’d gotten to him in time, he would be more like them.  Scotty is Alex’s little brother.  He’s usually away to boarding school, but he’s on break.  Jean is a newcomer, recently pulled off the streets by Ms. Gwen.  Charles recognizes her as the girl he tried to help so many months ago.  She’s quiet but she already looks a great deal better.   There’s color to her checks and she looks to be filling in around the sharp edges.  She sits on the floor under the sofa as two girls fawn over long red hair.

Kitty has deputized her best friend, Jubilee.  The older girl is a precocious match, but unlike Kitty she actually had some time in sex work.  Though she claims to not remember.  She was found at an auction, where Ororo aimed to save runaway teenagers, but found a bawling six-year-old.  Charles smiles at the girl as she tries on one of the shirts and dancing around his coffee table. 

Kitty calls them all to attention, “Let’s get this movement organized!  I want guns, knives, and mallets on the table right now as we take in inventory.  We have to be weaponized!  Team Charles!”

The kids cheer along with her Charles groans.  He’s saved from the militant cherubs when there’s a knock on the door.  He struggles to get off the couch, “I’ll get it.”

“Will not!”  Kitty pushes him down.  “Check the TV first.  Then if I have to, I’m stabbing someone in the eye.”  She gets a fork out of a plate.  “I’m going in.”  She barrel-rolls on the floor and Jubilee has to jump over her as she belly-crawls to the front door.

Oh how the tables have turned, thinks Charles.  Now _he’s_ the babysitter.

“What do you want, Jerk!”  Charles looks back to see Kitty blocking the door and brandishing her fork.

“Kitty?  Who is it.”

Kitty doesn’t answer.  Instead she stomps on the guest’s foot and slams the door.  “It’s just wandering jerkface.  I took care of it.”

The kids all cheer as their tiny ringleader flexes her muscles. 

There’s another knock on the door and this time, Charles holds his middle and quiets the kids down.  “Come away from there, Kitty and let me answer it.”

“But Charles,” she whines trying to block him.  “You need to go lay down.  In fact, I think it’s time to change your bandages.  Yo, Scotty get the mummy wrap!”

“No,” says Charles.   He’s already experienced their medical care once today.  He rather wait for Hank to get back before he subjects himself to that again.  “That’s quite alright.  Just back away from the door and let me… oh.  Its Erik isn’t it.”

“It’s a jerk.  And the jerk got what he deserves.”  She raises her fist, “Team Charles!”

The kids erupt again Charles hangs his head, “That’s enough, Kitty.  I appreciate your concern.  Really, all of you.”  He looks back at the others.  “But he is my husband.  I can handle this.”  He wobbles over to his coat and pulls out his wallet, “Do me a favor and go run a few errands for me.”

“You’re trying to get rid of us,” pouts Kitty.  “Who’s gonna protect you?”

Charles pats the child on the head, “Logan and Remy are still downstairs, remember.  I’ll be perfectly safe.  Thank you.”  He kisses her on the top of the head.  “You don’t know what it means to me know you all care.”

The kids all blush and stammer but get up to follow orders.  Kitty sighs and accepts retreat, “Okay.  Fine.  But we’re coming right back.  And if that jerk is still here we’re throwing him out on his ass!”

“Yeah!” agrees the others.

Charles shrugs, “That sounds like a fine plan to me.”

Kitty opens the door and lets the others out before pushing past Erik with a violent shove.  He stays in the hallway until they’re all in the elevator.

When it’s safe to come in Erik steps inside with a crooked smile, “What was that?”

Charles turns his back on the man and goes to the kitchen.  “Team Charles.  We have t-shirts and everything.”

“And you act like I’m some kind of pied piper.  But here you are inspiring delinquents to riot.”

They’re not screaming or crying.  They’re not fighting.  Charles counts this civil banter as a win.  Hope starts to fill his heart as he sits down at the counter.  “That wasn’t me.  That was all Kitty.  She’s a born General.”

Erik keeps his distance.  He reaches under his jacket and for split second Charles is afraid.  Instead of a weapon, he pulls out a sheaf of papers.  “Your fake divorce papers.  I had a chance to really look them over.  Raven and Darwin has filled me in… Azazel is being dealt with.  I’ve been burnt before by exes.  I’m sorry… He was only looking out for me.”  He looks down at where Charles shirt rides up and his bandages are more apparent.  “Are you okay?”

“I’m as okay as I can be.”  It’s not a lie at least.  Charles pulls his shirt down.  “What do you want?”

Erik shakes his head.  “I can’t say I’m sorry enough for what happened.  I messed up, didn’t I?”

Charles crosses his arms, “Yes.”  He says simply.  So Darwin wins the bet, but Erik didn’t bring flowers or candy.

“But you lied to me again.  You were lying to all of us.  And this is what happens when I can’t trust you.  I love you but I can’t trust you at all, even when you think you’re doing the right thing.  You can’t… you won’t tell me anything.  I’m not even sure what your real name is.  How old are you.  Where do you come from…”  He paces with his balled up in fists.  “And I’m sick of it Charles.  I’m just completely sick of it.”

Charles is speechless.  That feeling he had on their wedding day returns with added weight.  He swallows his self-doubt now, “I wanted to tell you everything.  But you came in there ready to accuse me!”  He thinks of how he wanted to right things.  “I wanted to share everything.  I honestly did.  But before I could even get a word in edgewise you were throwing me out the door over some stupid papers.  How do you think I feel now?  This is nothing…” he gestures to the stab wounds, “This I can handle.  But you hurt me yesterday, Erik.  And I can’t trust _you_!”

Erik scrubs his hands in his hair and turns his back on Charles.  “I’m sorry.  I’m sorry.  I don’t know what came over me.  I shouldn’t have used you like that.”

It was wishful thinking, to assume there would be no crying.  Tears are clumping in his eyelashes.  Charles blinks them away.  “I don’t want to go back there.  Not while your drones are there.  I hate that house.  I just wanted you to come home, understand?  I would have done anything to get you back.”

“Anything?”  Says Erik with challenge in voice.  “How far would you have gone with this?  How long would you have hid things from me?  Raven says part of the deal you made with Schmidt was turning yourself over.  What would have happened if she weren’t there?  Would you still be in that house?  Would you be his lapdog now?”

Charles sighs.  Erik.  His beautiful stubborn jackass of a man.  He’s not going to let this go without another fight, Charles can tell.  He’s not going to stop until he has the last word.  Charles knits his fingers together, “Please Erik.  Just drop it.  We don’t have to go down this road.  It’s over isn’t it.  It didn’t happen.  It wouldn’t have.”  He feels frustrated and tired of talking in circles.  “I just want us to be okay again.”

Erik nods.  “I agree,” he sits down with manic look in his eyes.  “I agree entirely.”

Charles doesn’t trust the messed up logic Erik is no doubt using to piece things together in his thick head.  “We agree on what exactly,” he asks.  “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“It’s like everyone said,” He reaches and smooths his hand in Charles’s hair.  Charles doesn’t mean to lean into it, but he does.  Erik pulls away, his hand trailing Charles’s neck and shoulder.  His fingers brushing the mark he made.  “We aren’t made for this.  Neither of us.”

Charles pulls away but isn’t fast enough.  Erik takes his hands and keep him on the stool so he argues.  “You’re not serious?  I didn’t even want… You talked me into this!  You talked me into believing you could love me.  You made it safe to love you back.  And I do,” he frees his hands free.  He gets off the stool and throws himself at the other man.  “You did all that and now, now you want to erase it?  How?  How can do that to me?”

Erik holds him tight, but carefully.  His hands going nowhere near Charles’s injury as he hugs back.  “I’m trying to save us.  But we have to stop pretending with each other.”

Charles buries his face in Erik’s neck, “I’m not pretending anything.  I told you.”

“I know.  But I don’t think you understand.  You’re too young,” he says pulling Charles up in his lap.  He backs enough to wipe the tears off Charles’s face and rest their foreheads together.  “I know that much.  You’re too young to understand what I feel for you.  And I’m too old to keep playing games.  I should never have started making excuses.  I should have never pushed you into something you weren’t ready for.  It makes me the bastard, and I’m sorry.  You deserve better, Charles.  You deserve something real someday.”

“This is real!”  Charles squirms in grasp.  “I’m not a child, Erik!  I know what I feel for you.  It just took a long time to really admit.  I’ve wanted you since that first night!  I broke all my rules to be with you.  I kept breaking them.  I took your offer.  I followed you, knowing exactly what I was in for.  Even when I was afraid, because I think you’re worth it.  Because I love you, you stupid man.”

Charles is sobbing on Erik’s shoulder and trying not to think of how much this hurts his arguments.  Sitting on his husband’s lap and crying like a baby.  Erik rocks him back and forth while kissing the side of his head.  “I believe you love me in a way.  But I really don’t think you or I were ready for this.”  He kisses Charles again.  “Please forgive me, Charles.”

Charles fists his hands in Erik’s jacket, “It’s not fair!  First you throw me out the fucking door and now this!  I put up with all that shit from your horde of goons and wannabe pimps.  I cleaned up after you when you were sick.  I stayed and I tried to protect you…”  He wipes his face and sits up to look Erik in the eye.  “I’m not looking for high-praise here.  Just don’t write everything off as bad idea and leave me.  Don’t leave me, Erik.”

Erik shakes head, “I wasn’t going to do that.”  He motions to the fake papers, “That is rubbish.  My lawyers would never have allowed you to get away with something like that.  You know that?”

Charles nods, “I told you it was fake.”

“And we’re too entwined now to give up.  I couldn’t do that after everything I invested in making you Simon Lehnsherr.”

“What do you mean?  You want a divorce?  Are you for real?” 

“I’m just being practical,” he squeezes Charles by the neck a little to quiet him.  “Listen.  Just listen to what I’m saying.  I’m saying we could go back to the old arrangement.  You were more comfortable that way.  I can’t delude myself anymore.  You can keep this place.  The bookstore.  You can do whatever you like.  You are Simon Lehnsherr.  But,” he looks away, and swallows like there’s a bad taste in his mouth.  “We don’t have to live together.  And we can go back to…”

“Me being a whore.”  Charles gets up like he’s been burned.  He definitely pulled something now and the spread of skin in his middle adds to the pain he feels of his heart breaking.  “You want to go back to just summoning me like a dog?  Calling me over when you want to get off, and leave it at that.  I’m already bought and paid, right?”

“Yes,” snaps Erik.  “And you were an expensive acquisition!”  He rounds on Charles.  “And I regret hurting you, but I can’t bring myself to really breaking it off.  I can’t lose you completely, Charles.”

Charles hangs his head and cries while the words sink in.  He’s not just demoted; he’s been stripped down to nothing.  “Do you hear yourself?  You rather put me back on the fucking payroll, than work this out?!  I’m not the child, here.  You are!  You are small and insecure and possessive!  I’m not a goddamn toy, Erik!”

“That’s debatable,” sneers Erik.  “Everyone seems to think you’re meant to be shared.  That you _like_ to be shared.  That you rather be turning tricks than living in the same house as me.  That’s the truth of it, isn’t?  You hated that house and not having the freedom to do as you like, to fuck what you wanted.  To line your little secret coffers.  Maybe you weren’t fucking Raven, but I haven’t forgotten.  Almost every seller and buyer you dealt with knows what you look like with your lips around a cock!  They ask me, even now as your husband what your rates are!”

Charles lets the words sink in and the memories of last year flash before his eyes.  The fact that’s he’s been faithful doesn’t matter.  He was brought in with one purpose in mind.  And Erik gave him a safe job, but he kept secrets again… he did what he thought he had to do to remain independent.  And now Erik thinks the worst of him.

Charles turns away and sits on the sofa, arms wrapped around his middle.  “Okay.”  He surrenders, quietly. 

The apartment is eerily quiet as neither of move or say anything.  Whatever has just passed between them feels like a final nail in the coffin.  Charles sits there not breathing and not daring to look back at Erik.  He listens for a reaction and only hears the soft padding of footsteps as the man retreats and leaves.

Team Charles returns to find him locked behind his newly repaired door.  Charles doesn’t answer their calls to come out.

* * *

 

The night falls with Charles half listening to the others as they prepare to assault Sebastian Schmidt and what’s left of the Omega Red gang.  Angel fills them all in on her spying on the Hellfire club.  “The Black Queen is Selene Gallio, she made the push to kick out Sebastian in the first place.  But it was an unpopular opinion a few years ago.  He was powerful and already negotiating with Erik on the regular. With the Brotherhood moving further into Omega Red territory… there was new friction between them.”

Charles puts it together, “The day I met Erik.  You were all running from that warehouse a few blocks from my place.”

Angel nods, “Yeah.  A deal had already gone sour and we went to straighten it out.  I found out it was Selene stoking the fire.  They’re all gross, but she really is the scum of the earth.  She stole property from Omega Red.  And when I say property, I mean girls.  She set us for the grab and we had to defend the girls at the hotel.  Gregorivich’s people were sloppy and greedy.”  She shrugs.  “We thought it best to clean it up and leave it looking anonymous.”

“But that didn’t work,” he fills in.  “Because Schmidt came back for another deal didn’t he?  And Erik sold him the trifles from the Bibliophile instead.”  He looks at his hands, “I put a lot of work into that, by the way.”

Angel pats him on the head, “I told Erik it was a waste of time.  We should have just eradicated them.  I still think we need cut off the head and leave Schmidt alone for now.”

“What’d I tell ya, kitten?”  Remy chimes, “The what if’s’ always get you.”  He nods sagely but Charles ignores him.

“And your mission to spy on the Hellfire gang has turned up all this backstabbing from one their leaders,” says Charles.  He wonders if he paid more attention to Erik’s business if he could have been more helpful.  Maybe connected the dots or been less afraid to tell anyone about Schmidt.  Erik wouldn’t distrust him so much…  Again with the what if’s.

Raven finishes for Angel, “It’s like the crazy bitch wants to really destroy it.  And if Janos wants to stand by her side, they are primed to do so with Hellfire and the Brotherhood fighting on every front.”  Raven insists that Charles stays behind.  “I’m going in with my cover as his liaison.  It doesn’t matter if they question it.  I’m only going to open the front door.”

“And I don’t want you shot in the head before we can follow,” argues Darwin.  “Angel’s plan sounds better.”  He waves at the woman she preens while eating from tub of ice cream.

Raven and Angel are specialists but Charles watches them as the bicker over this like it’s a school project.  Not a planned murder spree. 

Alex rests with an ice pack on his head, “I wish I could come storm the castle.  You guys make it sound like fun.  Evil witches, secret towers, a dragon.”

“And Janos,” adds Raven.  “And he’s bad enough, trust me.”

“Oh I know.  We had him once and Bobby, the little shit let him go.” 

Everyone in the room goes still at the same.  Even Charles in his distracted state notices.  He turns slowly to Alex and Darwin, “Bobby let Janos go.”

“Yeah.  I almost forgot about that,” says Alex.  “We were right here when I smacked him down over it.”

Darwin jumps over the couch, and marches to the door with Logan and Angel on his heels.  “You guys pack up and get outta of here.  Bobby’s crew knows about the plan in the morning.  They know about this place.  We’ve got to warn Erik…”

Charles sits up thinking of how he was snatched, “They know how to get around your security.  That’s how Nevan got me out of the building!”

Remy bites the knuckles of one hand, “I knew something like this would happen.  I told you, kitten.  We shouldn’t mix up with thugs and dealers.  They just ain’t clean people.”

“Says the thief,” quips Angel as she returns with a bag of guns.  She hands out one to Charles and he recognizes the pretty gun Erik gifted him for their wedding.  “You do know how to shoot right?”

Charles nods he takes it, “I don’t think they’ll come up here.  Just go and make sure Erik’s alright.” 

She salutes him before marching off and Charles doesn’t question leaving Erik’s safety to the tiny woman.  She still has the scars on her neck from surviving worse than whatever a lowlife like Bobby can muster.  He goes to his room and thinks of what to pack for an impromptu getaway.  He goes to the closet and grabs the ratty backpack that saw him halfway across the country.  And he grabs his favorite book and a change of clothes.  A bottle of water, box of matches.  He doesn’t know what else to do so he gets a knife and sheath and puts it on before walking back out.

Alex calls out to the others with a phone, “Darwin sent some guys to the Gregorivich house.  He says the place is empty.”

“Fuck,” says Raven.  “We’ve had guys watching the house all day.  That means it been empty this whole time and they have a head start.”  She almost looks happy about the news.  Charles is confused and lost and a little afraid.

“Where are we going,” he asks Raven.

She doesn’t look like she’s in a rush like the others.  Instead she’s picking at a carton of ice cream and checking the windows.  She smiles as she looks back at him, “I just called Ororo and told her to take the kids back home.  If we’re going to war with ourselves we have to protect the vulnerable first.”  She takes him by the hand and leads him out to the elevator.  When they’re all packed in like sardines, she gives him a squeeze.  “Don’t worry.  I’m not counting you as the ‘vulnerable’ anymore.  You’re the secret weapon.”  She winks and Charles has no idea what she means.

Remy is a mess of nerves all the way to the car.  Raven takes the wheel with Alex up front while Charles and Remy sit in the back.  Charles watches the city blur past and asks, “Are we going back to the Heart of Gold too?”

“No,” answers Raven.  “We’re going to pay a visit to Magda and Old Nana.”  She looks at him through the rearview mirror, “If anyone is tired of cleaning up Erik’s shit, it’s her.  She’ll keep you safe while this is going down.”

Charles sits up, hugging her headrest, “I don’t think she’ll want to see me.”

“Sure she will,” shrugs Raven.  “She’s knows all about you.  Just like me.  Just like Ororo.”

Charles sits back with like he’s been punched, “You can’t be serious?”

Alex is on the phone but Remy stares at Charles and Raven.  “What’s going on?  Did I miss something?”

Charles hushes him, “Its nothing.  Just a personal matter.”

“Everything with you is a personal matter.  I wish I never took your scrawny ass in.”  He sighs even as he wraps an arm around Charles’s shoulder.  “You’re nothing but trouble, Jigglypuff.”

* * *

 

They drive for hours, moving up the coastline.  Charles assumes the fashionable old woman and her granddaughter have retired in the middle of New York City.  But they keep driving.  And the roads start looking more and more familiar.  Charles sits up straight when they cross into Westchester County.  The big houses and property lines familiar to him even when faded with time and distance in his memory. 

“Raven,” says Charles with a warble in his voice.  “Where are we going?”

“Home,” she says simply.  “To Old Nana’s new house.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember Angel's tall girlfriend Gwen?
> 
> She found Jean. ^_^


	11. Car Chases Are Cheesy

The drive onto the property is blurred by tears.  Charles keeps his hands in his lap and looks out the window, quietly watching the old landmarks of his childhood roll by.

Remy has dosed off, slack and unknowing on his side of the car.  Alex is texting back and forth with Darwin.  He gives them updates every now and again.  He asks Raven how long she plans on staying.  Raven doesn’t answer but she looks in the rearview and finds Charles’s eyes and gives him a single nod.

“ _Is this a dream,”_ thinks Charles.  “ _How could I possibly be back here?”_  They were running from hitman but somehow detoured into the twilight zone.  “ _And Raven is the bloody host.”_  

Charles had expected a safe house.  Another of Erik’s business fronts or maybe a seedy hotel like he’s seen in police procedurals.  He watches the horizon and the looming mansion that belonged to his family for generations get closer and closer.  It’s unchanged on the outside… Charles almost expected a gothic gloom to hang over it.  A dreary fog or overcast.  Not this.  A sunny day on an empty stretch of road.  Where are the villains or police?  There’s no swat team, or barricade.  He really is just going home.  Charles turns his face away from the others, hoping they can’t see his red eyes and blotchy face.

The car rolls through the gates and on to the front lot.  It settles with little fanfare despite the storm of feelings stirring in Charles’s head.  He lingers in the car as Alex gets out, roughly declaring his intent to meet with Old Nana’s security.  He bangs the back window and shocks Remy out of his sleep.  The Cajun curses before climbing out and stretching his limbs.  He looks through his open door at Charles, “Kitten?  You alright?  You growing moss in there or something?”

“Go find someplace to crash,” says Raven from the driver’s seat.  “And I’ll bring Sleeping Beauty inside.”

Remy scrunches his nose, “I’m Sleeping Beauty.”  He wiggles a finger at Charles, “That’s a Jigglypuff.  Totally different species.”  He studies Charles and how quiet he is in the car.  “Hey, I get it.  You’re a little nervous about seeing Mama Gotti again?  Don’t worry.  All old women love you, kitten.”  He smiles, “It’s the eyes.  They just want to feed you and knit you a sweater.”  He winks and pats the roof of the car and leaves them alone, finally heading inside. 

Charles watches his back, thinking of all the dreams he’s had over the years.  The ones where he was able to get Remy clean and bring him home to this place and repay his kindness for all the years they spent together.

Charles wipes his face and barely registers as Raven climbs over the seat to take Remy’s place.  She smiles at him and holds his hand.  “Surprise.  Has it changed much?”

Charles barks out a laugh.  “I haven’t thought about this place in a while,” he lies.  “How did this happen?” 

Raven gives his hand squeeze and moves closer, “Best I can tell… Darwin’s a rat.”  She bumps into his shoulder, “A good rat.  He was reporting on what kind of boy finally caught Erik’s heart.  And it’s no secret that you’ve been squirreling away huge stacks of cash.  I told you at the wedding, I really had no idea.  And Erik kept you so close and secret, I don’t think many outside of his circle really knew what you looked like.  Erik’s been looking high and low for a _Francis_ Xavier,” she rolls her eyes.  “He really did figure you just lied about your name.  He’s been digging as much as he can without submitting your DNA somewhere.  As for all this… Old Nana and Ororo are close.  I went to them and I kind of confessed my failings when you guys went on honeymoon.  Ororo filled in the gaps for Old Nana.  She remembers your dad and coming to this house for his wedding.  So while you guys were gone she and Ororo put together to buy this place.”

“Why,” asks Charles.  He looks at the little fountain outside the house and thinks of himself as child.  Being scolded by his mother before she died, being carried by his nanny through the gates.  “Why would she do this?”

Raven kisses his head, “Go ask her.  She’s waiting on you in the house.”

Raven tugs until Charles follows her out of the car.  Together they stand shoulder to shoulder.  He wipes his nose with the back of his free hand and shakes his head, trying to clear it.  “I was coming back for you, too.  I really was.  I had built this dream… this fantasy that one day I would have enough saved to come home.  And save you.  And Remy.  And live happily ever after.  I watched and watched as no one took up residence.  I read housing magazines of the rich and famous.”  He looks anywhere but at the front door as he talks, head down.  “I guess ghost stories and bad press kept it out of market….”  He laughs, “I thought maybe it was fate.  Calling me home to my house and keeping people out.  But here you all are.”

Raven hugs him close, “Chin up, Mr. Xavier.  Time to go home.”

As Charles walks up the path to the house, vivid memories override reality.  He sees himself as a toddler running through the doors.  He sees himself playing with toys in the foyer and crying near the stairs the day he learned his mother died.  He follows Raven through the house, it’s been preserved and looks much the same.  No one has bothered to rip up its foundations or redecorate.  He walks across a rug he remembers spilling juice on.  He remembers Kurt’s booming voice as it echoed in the halls.  He remembers the sound of his own young voice, whispering as he read books aloud to his Nanny.  Charles walks with his head down, but his feet head straight for his father’s office.

There in a seat that many Xavier’s have held, sits Erik’s grandmother.

Edmonia Lehnsherr levels him with the same knowing look Erik gives him.  Charles is at lost for what to do, but Raven pushes him into the room, guides him to two empty seats at the desk and sits him down.  She pats his shoulder before turning on her heel, dismissed like a good soldier.  She closes the door and takes all the air in the room with her.

Charles sits there gasping like a fish out of water as Edmonia measures him.  She gives him a sad smile before getting up, leaning heavily on her cane.  She walks slowly to him holds out her hand.  “I imagine this is bittersweet for someone like you.”

Charles blinks back tears in his head.  “I don’t think anyone can imagine what I’m feeling.”

“Try me,” says the old woman.  She runs her fingers through his hair. 

Before she can withdraw, Charles takes her and kisses the palm of her hand.  He sobs, “Please tell me this isn’t some kind of joke.  Please.  I can’t…”  Pain flares over the skin of his belly.  And Charles starts to laugh, thinking of the last two years with Erik.  “I can’t deal with another down.  Up and down. Chaos and running.  I thought it was fun before… I thought I could handle it.  After where I’ve been.  I thought I could do it.  …Stick by his side through anything.”  He looks up at her [eyes](https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard/blog/msmiamimiwritesfic/147557002021) and notes how different they really are from Erik’s.  Light gray with short lashes.  Her long white hair down in a loose French braid.  How could Erik come from someone so normal looking?  But Charles remembers all the bedtime stories.  All the proud little anecdotes Erik shared.  This woman is a murderer.  A madam.  A drug trafficker and gun dealer.  A living, breathing dragon that burns and razes innocent people to get what she wants.  And now she’s taken up residence in his family home.

“I can tell by the look on your face, you’re feeling scared.  But don’t be.  I’m not trying to intimidate you, Simon…” She rolls her eyes, “I mean Charles.  Goodness.  I have trouble enough remembering my great-grands without them all having two or three names.”  She lifts his chin, “Which do you prefer?”

“Charles,” he says quietly.  He looks down at his father’s desk and thinks of the earliest memories he has.  Kurt used to fill up the space, digging for whatever remained of Brian’s brilliance.  He would keep Charles and his mother out and sit alone in the room for hours.  And when he turned up empty, he’d give up until the next day.  And the next day.  Always sure that Brian was hiding something.  But Brian was a simple man.  And everything he left, he gave to Charles.  “Xavier.”

Mona gives him a little smile, “Not Lehnsherr?  I was at the wedding just a couple months ago…”

“We’re not exactly speaking.”  Charles hangs his head and covers his middle. 

Mona tuts at him and bends over, she moves his hand and lifts his shirt.  Charles doesn’t bother resisting.  He’s not uncomfortable displaying his wounds.  She only tuts at him again.  “Erik would not have done this.  If he thought you had really betrayed him, he would have killed you.  Or worse.  But he loves you so much.  He wouldn’t play like this.  This won’t even scar ugly.”  She laughs and backs away, lifting her blouse.

Charles stares, surprised by the sight of the old woman’s jagged scarring.  “Who… what happened?”

Mona puts her shirt down and takes the seat opposite him.  “Don’t you worry about me.  It happened almost sixty years ago.  Honestly, you should see the other guy!”  She laughs and slaps her knee.  “But I know my chubby brat.  He wouldn’t do that to you.”

Charles nods.  He’d like to agree with her but, “It was Azazel.” He says.  “It was as good as Erik’s hand.”

“Pah!”  Mona crosses her arms over her chest and sits back.  “Let me tell you a good story.  Once upon time,”

“Oh god.  Erik does this.  Is there tea or something for this exposition?”

She kicks him on the ankle and continues, “Once upon a time, there was a tall, but chubby little boy.  And he fell in love with a cat-eyed girl.  Now I know for a fact that this girl was trouble.  All cat-eyed women are.  And I said so at the time, but the chubby little brat wouldn’t listen to me.”

“Was he was actually chubby?”

“He was such a fat baby!  You could pinch the skin on him and he would never feel it!”

Charles smiles at the thought, “Poor fat little baby Erik.”

“Indeed.  Anyway, he loved that cat-eyed trollop.  But she had bigger plans for her life.  After Jakob died, Mischa took over with my blessing.  Erik was still so young, but she wanted a larger slice of the family pie.  She was undermining everyone while whispering in ears.  Betraying the family to another syndicate.  Turning our gangs against each other.  Then one day she tries to seduce our Az.”

“Oh,” says Charles.  “And did he cut her?”

“No, he slept with her.  For a whole weekend!”  She laughs, “And when my Erik finds out, he goes mad.  He challenged Az to a fight, and they nearly killed each other.  They both bear the scars from this still.”

Charles has asked before about the scar on Erik’s lip, and he always gotten ridiculous answers.  Jokes and distractions.  He never wondered about Azazel’s.  The man is probably covered in scars, and Charles had imagined they were all well deserved.  “And what happened to the cat-eyed girl?”

Mona rolls her eyes, “That minx!  She got what he deserved for stepping between two brothers.  But Erik was never the same again.  He kept matters of the heart very close.  He was only sixteen at the time, and he worshipped Azazel like an older brother.  He learned the hard the way you can’t trust anyone but family.  And even then, you have to bleed a little.”

Charles rests his hands over the bandages, “There’s that famous Lehnsherr logic.  I was wondering where he got it from.”

Mona narrows her eyes and sits back.  Somehow she cuts an even more frightening figure when she’s relaxed.  Like a coiled adder that is always ready to strike.  So Charles is wary when she menaces him with dark tone.  “You’re having trouble coping with the turn life has taken for you.  But understand darling, I won’t tolerate an insult to family.  Even from you.  I can and will cut your heart out.”

The words ring in Charles’s ear.  If this were any other day, he’d be fighting or fleeing like Remy taught him.  A snappy comeback or charming diversion would be easy.  But instead he sobs, “Erik already has.”  He raises a hand to hide his face.  He feels like he’s trapped in some kind of romance novel.  “I love him so much and he just doesn’t care.  He doesn’t care what I want!  He thinks he knows better.  He thinks he knows what I’m thinking!”  He shakes his head, “He thinks the worst of me and I just want to scream!”

“Hush child,” says Mona.  When Charles looks, her mantle is down.  She looks more like a sweet old grandmother again.  Like Remy said, old women love him.  “Hush!  Come here.”  She holds out her hands and Charles drops to his knees to put his head in her lap.  She combs her fingers in his hair and pats his back, “Hush, you poor sweet boy.”

“I’m not like that woman,” he cries.  “I love Erik.  It drives me mad to think about it. I told him I meant it, and he didn’t believe me.  He never believes me.”

“I hear you,” she coos.  “But he hardened his heart a long time ago.  And you cracked it.  He can’t help but be afraid.  With you, he’s vulnerable.”

Charles sits back on his knees and looks her in the eyes, “And how does he think I feel?  I just wanted to go home.  For years and years that’s all I thought about.  But then Erik came into my life.  And in just a two years he made himself home.  I just want the things he promised me.  He told me we’d grow old together.  And I wanted that.  I really wanted that.”  He buries his face in her skirt, “I didn’t ask for all this…” 

She pats him on the head, “I believe you, child.  Don’t cry.  We can fix this together.  You and I both want what’s best for Erik.  Things will work out.”

“How?”   He sits up and looks around.  “And why on earth did you do this?”  The question of her owning his home isn’t lost in his feelings for Erik.  “Does Erik know?”

“No,” says Mona.  “He thinks this is all Magda’s idea.  She wants it to house all our little ones from the Heart of Gold.  Give them a change of environment, somewhere positive and free of stigma.  She is the public face of the family.  All of charity work, the clean businesses.  Erik had a mind to give you the same opportunities.”  She smiles at him, “I am not a good woman.  I have not led a good life.  But I hoped differently for my children and my grandchildren.  This life stole my only sons.  Murdered one and drove another to illness.  But there’s still time to clean it.  I don’t want anything corrupt to touch my great-grandchildren.  I want them to be good, honest, men and women.  And I will use every resource I have to make sure that happens.”

Charles gets up and takes his seat again, “I don’t understand.  What does that have to do with _this_ house?”

Mona gives him a sad look, “There was a deal.  Jakob brokered with Brian Xavier.  They were going to go in as partners investing in his company and a new medical invention.  Mischa spoke of it after Brian and Jakob were killed.  It would have saved us years of work in cleaning the Lehnsherr name.  Erik wouldn’t be where he is now, if it had gone through.”

Charles stops breathing, surprise freezing his body.  He never met his father.  His mother was only a two months pregnant when he died.  What Raven told him before comes to mind.  He finally forms the words, “Was my father working for the mob?”

Mona laughs, “No!”  She holds her sides, “Could you imagine that skinny little scientist with a tommy gun.  I just did and it was hilarious!”  She calms down.  “No, my dear.  He was just… a good person.”  She gives him a gentle look and gets up slowly from her chair.  “I think you could use a rest, sweet boy.  We haven’t finished finalizing the buy so I haven’t had a chance to redecorate.  Can you believe I’m renting this castle?”  Charles doesn’t smile with her and her face falls when she notices.  “Which one of these dusty rooms is yours?  Do you remember the way?”

Charles is slow to move.  “Can I just sit here… This is a lot to take in.”  He looks down at his father’s desk and wonders what would have happened if Brian had lived.  A lucrative business deal with the Brotherhood.  A childhood with both of his parents.  Maybe growing up with Erik and Ororo and Raven…  Never knowing Kurt Marko.

It is a lot to take in, and Mona leaves him to do so.

* * *

 

Charles avoids Remy and Raven for the next few hours.  His feet find his old room, covered in drop cloths.  Its dusty and musty with an old book smell.  Some of his books still sit on the shelves.  Kurt had forced him to part with many of his possessions, adding them to the price of house when he put it up for market.

The bed is cleared off, already made with a little note on one pillow with a worn, old stuffed duck.

 

It reads _, ‘I had a feeling this was yours.’_

Charles recognizes Raven’s hand and stops himself from crying again, afraid he’ll be dehydrated at the rate he’s going.  There’s not enough tears, he thinks.  For finding something you thought you lost, while losing something you didn’t know you wanted.  Charles sighs and sits on the bed.  He lays downs and imagines he can smell his mother in this room.  He thinks of her face as she kissed him goodnight or came to scold him for some impropriety.  Like taking the stuff duck to breakfast and feeding it oatmeal.  He smiles at the thought and sleep comes easily with old memories filling the void in his heart where he’s worried about Erik and their future.  Perhaps the house is haunted.  But he’s not afraid of the souls lingering here.  At least, he thinks, the past is over and done with.

* * *

 

The next morning Charles is treated to the surreal sight of his best friend shirtless, but for an apron.

“Rise and shine, kitten!  You won’t believe the kitchen in this place!”  He goes to the door and pulls in a trolley with a covered dish.  “It’s twice as big as Ro’s!  I’ve been having a hell of time in there, cooking on two stoves!  And they got that Cuisinart TV infomercial shit!  Can you believe it?”  He pulls up the lid and reveals an extravagant breakfast spread.  There’s the simple fare Charles is used to getting from Remy but then there’s plates of things Charles has never seen or heard of before.

They spend the next half hour together, sharing the meal at a child size table.  Remy talks about the house and all the exploring he’s done.  Charles nods along like he’s never heard of such things.  His attention is drawn to the writing table, where he’s scratched the word ‘x-men’ for some unknown reason.  He can barely remember what he did to entertain himself as a lonely little boy. He wonders, as he watches his friend, if they still would have crossed paths if his life hadn’t be derailed.

“Where were you… say twenty years ago?”

Remy pauses, fork and strawberry and inch from his face.  “Pardon moi?”

Charles smiles and reaches over the table, placing a hand over Remy’s.  It’s a serious question.  They’ve both spent years dodging each other.  But now his history is here and he wonders where Remy would have fit in.  “Where were you?”

Remy clears his throat and looks away.  The hand holding his fork trembles so, he drops it with clatter.  “That’s rude.  You know we don’t do that.  We don’t bother the bones in our respective closets.  We ah… we keep to our own business, right?”  He looks almost frightened to think of it.  The shaking hand nervously scratches the inside of his left arm.  He’s been clean for a short time, and Ororo has warned them before about the possibility of relapse. 

Charles doesn’t want to be the thing that sends his friend back down the rabbit hole.  So he drops it, “Never mind.  I was just wondering.  We have a lot of business to take care of today.  And…”  He looks at the plates between them.  “And I was just wondering where you learned to cook like this.”

At that Remy smiles, “Oh that!”

Remy tells Charles the colorful story of his first regular john.  He exalts, “You aren’t the only pretty boy worth buying.”  Apparently an older gentlemen swept Remy off his feet the first year he was on the street.  And he agreed to be a kept boy, learning how to cook from a five-star chef.  “I ain’t naming no names.  But it was totally Gordon Ramsey.”

“Shut up,” Charles throws his napkin.  “Stop lying about good people.  I have half a mind to call him.  Let him critique one of your new dishes… what is this anyway?”  He says biting happily into some kind of jelly-filled pastry.

“I calls it, Jigglypuff A La Mode.”

Charles drops his fork with a clank and shakes his head, “I’m buying you a French dictionary, if it’s the last thing I do.”

* * *

 

After breakfast, and a quick bath (Charles laments the fact that his toys are gone), and getting dressed in his one change of clothes, Charles goes looking for more explanations.

Charles has had to adapt to so much in his life. 

But how to deal with Edmonia and Raven sitting in his mother’s garden?  Mona is dressed for tennis, short skirt, sporty shoes, and a racket by her side.  Her cane is on the table, and she looks spry and healthy in the sunlight.  Like a well-cared for senior citizen in a retirement home.  Raven is dressed like she’s about to join a tactical hit squad.  The contrast is startling at first but Charles just rolls with it.

“Any news about Erik and Schmidt?”

Raven casually loads a gun at the table where Mona is sipping tea.  “And good morning to you, sunshine.”  She stands up and gives Mona a kiss on the head.  “Did your little friend find you with all that food this morning?”

Charles sighs, “Yes.  Now please answer the question.  What was Alex going on about yesterday?”  Raven walks around her and pulls out her chair for Charles to take her place.  He does he so quickly and looks between them frantically.  “Well I imagine the news is good.  Why else would you two be flippant about a gang war.”

Raven shrugs, “If it were good I’d be in dressed like this saucy minx, too.  But given what we found yesterday, its decidedly not good.”

Edmonia fills in, “Erik and Darwin are tearing up the city back home.  Erik’s looking for any trace of the Omega Red gang survivors and Darwin is weeding out that little traitor.  They have their hands full.  But I’ve given Erik some practical advice for getting information out of unwilling informants.”  She smiles with all of her perfect, fake teeth.  “We are safe here in the meantime.  This place is a recent acquisition.  None of Erik’s people really know about it.  Erik’s been preoccupied with your honeymoon and extending his rap sheet.”  She clucks her tongue.  “He’s just like his father, I swear.  Oh, but Ororo’s on her way up with the kids.  It’s a lot of bodies to move in, but I think our place can handle it.”

“Our…”

Edmonia puts a finger under his chin, “Ours.  And later today we’ll get some business settled.  The executor of the Charles Marko trust is coming to sign a few papers.  Finalizing the sale and maybe asking me out on date.”  She smiles, “We’ll see what happens.”

“Are you serious?”

“I’m not so old—“

“No I mean… Charles Marko trust?  I don’t know what I thought happened.  Kurt changed my name and he lost everything.  I didn’t think there was anything left.”

“There’s plenty left to Charles Marko.  He’s the heir of Xavier Corp, the patent holder of world’s most effective immune system rebuilding drug.  And all of Brian’s medical technologies, techniques, research labs.  His medicines are a godsend to cancer and immune depressed patients.  That’s the legacy he left behind.  The question is, do you want to be that man or Simon Lehnsherr?”  She pats him on the leg, “Either way you are still family.  What was it you said when we first met…ah!  You are banging my grandson!”  She starts laughing and her face turns red.  “That was a good one.  You had my cousin clutching her pearls!”

Charles fakes a smile, “I’m glad I make you smile, Old Nana.  But this is… This is momentous.  You’re telling me I don’t have to… Are you telling me I can still claim my trust?”

She keeps smiling, but her eyes scan Charles’s face.  “I’m telling you, Charles, that you can be anyone you want to be.  I’d like to give you more time to think on it.  My date will be here this evening.  But Erik will be here tomorrow.”

Charles looks away from her.  “Then I have a few hours to decide if I want to tell Erik the truth or if I want to keep living a lie.  Is that what you’re telling me?”  He twists his hands in lap, “Why haven’t you told him yet?”

“Because it’s not for me, or Raven, or Ororo to share this.  If you want to keep this secret, we will.  But I think it best, to bring this all out in the open, child.  Aren’t you tired of talking in circles to that chubby little brat?”  She gets up, takes up the racket and spins it with spry twist of her wrist.  She sighs like she’s satisfied with the weight of it.  Then bops Charles on the top of the head.

“Hey!”

“Hush, child!  This isn’t an ultimatum.  I’m not going to force you to stay married to my grandson or steal this lovely house from under you.  I’m just saying, take your time and look at what you have.  Isn’t this what you always wanted?  Your home and people who love you?”  Charles raises a brow, but she doesn’t comment on the fact they’ve only had three conversations.  There’s no love between them.  Instead he’s quiet as she gives him a matronly smile and a pinch on the cheek before walking away.

She has been sweet and kind to him since he arrived, but Charles can’t shake the feeling that Old Nana would snap his neck, keep the house, and find Erik a nice Jewish girl to replace him.  He knows crazy old women, and charming them is what he’s good at.

So, he thinks.  “ _A few hours to decide if I want to be her enemy or a puppet.”_

* * *

 

Raven leaves the house to join the fray.  Charles finds Alex outside the house, briefing Mona’s people.  Alex spares Charles an annoyed look before dismissing the men and women around the property.  He sighs before he addresses Charles, “Aren’t you supposed to be up in the tallest tower or something?”

“Ha-ha,” says Charles flatly.  “The princess jokes will never get stale.  Please, do go on.”

Alex rolls his eyes, “Don’t get smart with me.  It’s my ass on the line here.  What if Janos whirls in here like tornado, kills everyone in their sleep and takes off with your lily ass again?”

Charles kicks up a divot in the grass.  “I get that you’re angry and scared, Alex.  But don’t take it out me.  And I’ll try not be such a damsel in distress, okay.  Deal?”  He reaches to the young man.

Alex considers his hand for a long, suffering moment.  Then he shakes, while noting, “It’s not like I hate you or anything.  I’m just… stressed.”  He drops his hands and starts walking the perimeter, knowing Charles will follow.  He walks slow and keeps his eyes on everything but Charles.  “This used to be a cushy job for me, you know.  I mean, it’s always been hard work, but not _this_ hard.  Azazel picked me up right out of juvie, and trained me to watch the girls taking clients for him.  Then one night I stopped this group of randy dentists from drugging and stealing one of Az’s.  It was kind of a big fight and Darwin noticed.  He took me off of Azazel and I’ve been… I don’t know.  It’s one thing to go into a fight and know what you’re doing.  To steal something or watch someone’s back.  This feels different.  I don’t know what the hell is going on when we’re under attack.  Who’s attacking?  What do they want?  I’m freaking out ‘cause I’ve got family to protect.  And you, you’re some kind of walking target.  It’s like your standing between two blast dummies asking everyone to take a shot.”

“I don’t ask for attention, Alex.”  Charles pouts.  “And I don’t want anything to happen to you. Or Darwin or Scotty.  I swear, I’ll fight with you guys.”  The words tumble out and Charles finds he means them.  These are his friends, and whatever happens, he doesn’t think he can just abandon them now.  Not after all they’ve been through together.

Alex eyes are either tearing up or he has allergies.  He sniffles and slaps Charles on the back, “Whatever, Princess.  Go back inside until I know its safe out here in the open.  This place is so unsecure; a rank amateur could walk up with a Wal-Mart assault rifle.”

Charles looks around all the greenery and the odd spaces where hired thugs try to look inconspicuous on the lawn.  He frowns, suddenly more worried about the house.  “I’ll just go back inside then…”  He gives an unconfident smile and hurries away.

* * *

 

 Charles does as he was told.  He decides to spend the wait inside the house closed up in his old room.  He’s only bothered by one of Mona’s men, bringing him three bags of clothes.  “Mr. L sent these,” he explains leaving them in a heap.  Charles dismisses the man and checks through it.  His favorite shirts and jeans.  His underwear and socks.  And Erik’s threadbare Metallica t-shirt that Charles uses as a nightshirt.  He considers throwing it out the window… but then thinks he can still smell Erik on it.  The shirt is stuffed to the bottom of the bag and Charles leaves the clothes on the floor.

There’s a window seat where he used to read or listen to his Ms. Nanny sing.  So he sits there and scrolls through his phone.

He checks his bank accounts.  Which are still seriously padded from Erik’s generous wages and his side work before they settled down.  He sobs, thinking of how hard he fought and what he had to put up with just to have this paltry sum.  And it didn’t matter.  Here he is now, with everything handed to him.  Charles throws the phone on the floor.  He wonders if he can actually trust Erik’s grandmother.  Age hasn’t taken the edge off of her.  For someone trying to be a devoted old matriarch, she still seems… devious.

He’s given a message from a maid, written on expensive paper.  He laughs out loud as he reads it.

                _Dearest Sir Jigglypuff,_

_Your new kin is balls crazy.  This is quite the setup you’ve got, but I get the feeling you think it’s not the right fit.  We are a pair of ‘have nots’ and all this having can be hard to get used to.  Chin up.  Don’t cry.  Don’t think about yesterday and the day before.  Or your stabbing. Just focus on the right now.  There are good things in life to celebrate.  Like the delicious cake I’m carefully baking in your honor.  If his royal highness would deem to honor the kitchen with his noble presence, the cake and my pretty self will be waiting.  Love, Remy._

 

Charles thanks the maid and tells her to let Remy know he’ll be down shortly.  She gives him a shy curtsy, like she’s not sure what to do and hurries off.

Charles spends the next few hours with a fake smile plastered on his face.  He laughs and jokes with Remy in the kitchen.  He barely eats and Remy notices.  He’s excused while Remy claims he wants to clean up alone.

Charles thinks of calling Erik, but changes his mind.  He walks the house for short bursts but always returns to his room when his memories get to be too much.  There are portraits of his family still hanging up in one dark hall.  His grandfather and aunts he never met.  His father and mother.  But there’s only one picture of him, commissioned just before his mother died.  His face seems completely different.  His hair reddish, and toothless smile dominating a large gold framed image.  Charles walks by it quickly before going back to his room. 

Remy comes up to check on his bandages, changing them with a bright smile, “You’re mending pretty.  It’ll look like mosquitoes bites when they close up.  Thank god that the bastard didn’t give you a smile.”  He’s been Charles’s nurse before and this is not as bad some of things they’ve seen together. 

Charles doesn’t care about the cuts, but he does care about the reasoning behind it.  Azazel is a problem, thinks Charles.  _“Hell, everyone in the dysfunctional organization is a problem.”_ But he can’t deal with that now.  Now his future rests in the outcome of a meeting…  He excuses himself from Remy’s care.  He hasn’t told him anything, but he thinks it’ll be best to tell him after he tells Erik.  And he will.  He has to now.

Charles decides to seek out Mona to address some of his worries first.  The creepy feeling he got when Big Daddy went off route returns, like a heavy cloak of worry on his back.  He can’t shake it.  He can’t dismiss it.  She might not plan to feel him up in an alley, but she is up to something.

Charles finds the old woman in his mother’s bedroom. 

It’s the only room he’s seen that’s been really changed.  His mother’s four post bed is gone.  Her heavy, mahogany furniture.  The wallpaper is now white and floral.  The room is bright and airy now.  The windows and the balcony doors are open.  A big medical bed sits in the middle of the room, where Mona sits with Hank McCoy.  The young doctor is giving her an injection.  He sighs like a long suffering caretaker, “I won’t bother asking you to take it easy.”  Then packs his bags and quietly gets up.

Charles gives Hank a pat on the back as they cross each other, “Good to see you, Hank.”

“And you, Charles.  I’ll check on those stitches later.”  Hank gives him a warm smile before leaving and Mona laughs from her bed.

“Are you sleeping with that bean pole?”

Charles waves his hand, “He’s a good friend.  He took very good care of Erik when he was shot.  And Remy.  And me.  I trust him.”  He walks over sits on the bed with Mona.  “I bet he takes good care of you, too.”

She shrugs, and makes a face so like Erik that Charles smiles.  “He’s a good boy.  Thanks to you, my regular doctor has resigned.”  She raises a brow but Charles doesn’t want to talk about Nathaniel Essex.  She drops it and adds, “He’s a little too strict about insulin.”  She bends her arm, “A little diabetes isn’t going to kill me.”

Charles grins, “You’d kill it first.”

“Damn right!”  She laughs, “Besides I have a long life left to live.  I know this.  A gypsy told me the day I would die.” 

“Well I wish I had the same assurance,” says Charles.  “But that’s not the way my life works.  I’m usually being lied to or manipulated.  I don’t think I could trust a gypsy.”

She levels him with cool stare, “An unbeliever then.  That’s fine.  You have to see things for yourself?  Come with me, Charles.”  She sits up with some difficulty and gets her cane.  She seems more stiff and wooden, perhaps after working out too hard this morning.  Mona holds out her hand, “Come meet your trustee.  She should be in the office now.”

Charles doesn’t take her hand, but he offers his arm when they leave the room.  Mona leans on him as her cane taps against the hardwood floors.

Before they get down the many stairs, they stop as they notice a couple arguing in the hallway.  Charles recognizes Warren and gives him a quick nod, but he freezes when the woman turns around.  [She’s cuts an imposing figure](https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard/blog/msmiamimiwritesfic/147561176151). Her suit looks even more expensive than Warren’s.  She looks him up and down and Charles squeaks a little before the woman turns her attention to Mona.

“Mrs. Lehnsherr,” she starts, but her eyes flick back to Charles.  “Good to see you again.  You look lovely, my dear.”

Mona seems to blush, patting her hair.  “I just threw something on… Thank you Gabrielle.”  She smiles with her false teeth before turning to Charles, “This is my son-in-law, Simon.  He’d like to sit in on the meeting.”

“Simon,” says the woman.  Charles hiccups, forgetting his manners.  The woman grins at him and extends her hand, giving him a firm shake before turning around and walking like she owns the place.

Mona squeaks out a laugh, “She is such a hottie!  Wish me luck!”  Mona takes off after Gabrielle, while Charles and Warren stand in the hallway.

Warren notices Charles’s unease.  “It’s okay.  She only just gained the Xavier Corp contract.  She’s just a representative of the bigger bodies.  She doesn’t know who you are, yet.”  He says and manages to give Charles another shock.

“You know too!  How many people did Raven tell!”

Warren shrugs, “I’m not just a lawyer.  I’m family.  Old Nana had to tell me.  I’m here to help you with whatever you decide to do.  Either way,” he looks around the house.  “I see you winning in this.”

Charles sighs, “Winning what?  With everyone knowing the truth but my husband?  And that woman!  That woman is not what you think she is!  She told me she was an interior decorator!”  He hisses, angry and afraid and confused.

Warren frowns, “You’ve met Ms. Haller?”  He pulls Charles by the elbow patch.  “When?  How could you know her?”

Charles blushes and hides his face, “Intimately.  Like three years ago…”

“Oh, Charles.  No.”

“Yes…”  Charles whines and bites his nails before thinking Erik.  “And she told me she was an interior decorator… she… she…”  He stutters trying to think of a professional way to explaining to his husband’s godbrother that the trustee of his estate once paid him extra to so he would come inside her.  They hammered out agreement for a month so they could have unprotected sex… fuck, thinks Charles.  He should have known she was lawyer.  He bites his nails again.  “No.  I can’t do this now.  I can’t face her.  Just come and tell me what happened.  I’ll make up my mind later.”

“Charles,” warns Warren.  “You have to stay for this.  Just sit there and be quiet while we lay everything out.  It’s going to be okay.”  He gives Charles a charming smile and leads him into the office.

Charles takes a deep breath before joining Mona at the desk.  She has two seats and gives Charles the one on the right.  He sits with his head down, trying to hide his face.

“Gabrielle was just filling us in about the previous owner.  Apparently the whole family has died from tragic incidents.  The board of the company has been trying to sell this property for years.  The supposed heir is suspected dead, after his stepfather was murdered in their home.”  Mona tuts and pats Charles on the leg, “Isn’t that sad, my dear?”

Charles wonders if she’s giving him an opening.  A chance to say, ‘trustee it’s me, the lost Xavier baby’ but he worries about how ridiculous it would sound.  The woman on the other side of them looks at him and clearly sees the whore she hired years ago.   She probably thinks he’s a liar and con-artist and while that’s true, he still prickles at the assumption.  The little smirk on face as she looks Charles up and down makes his skin crawl.  There’s no way she’d believe the rightful owner of the house just happens to be married into the family trying to buy it.  They’ll all be laughed at for trying to pull an elaborate con.  It’ll be another story in the headlines, **The German and His Rentboy Try to Buy A House They Supposedly Own?**

Charles swallows any words that come to mind and simply nods, agreeing with Erik’s grandmother.

Mona gives him a sad look, “Well, let’s continue.”

* * *

 

In the end, Charles walks out of his father’s office, and shakes hands with a woman who now believes he’s Simon Lehnsherr.  She pulls him in to whisper in his ear, “Nice seeing you again, Francis.”  She gives him a smile and wink before walking off with Mona.

Warren leans against the door, “So you’re not claiming your inheritance?”

“How could I?  She’d think we made the whole thing up to help Mona get out of paying millions of dollars for this house.  It’d become a nightmare for the family, wouldn’t it?”

Warren nods, “Yes, but we could have worked it out.  For you.  I think Erik would move the earth if you asked him to.”

Charles slides down and sits on the floor.  This particular spot in front the doorway familiar to him, from the days when he played with plastic cars outside the office.  “I can’t do that to him.  Or you, or Mona…”  A black thought settles in his stomach, “Darwin did research on me… And he passed it on to Old Nana.”  He looks up at Warren.  “Did she know about Gabrielle?”

Warren shrugs, “I honestly don’t know.  But do you think she would have given you a choice if she did?”

Charles folds his hands in his lap and looks down, shedding a single, “Yes.”

“Hm.  She is a cold old bird.”  Warren pats him heavily on the shoulder.  “What about Erik.  He’ll be here tomorrow.  Are you going to tell him?”

Charles shakes his head, “I have to, don’t I?  Everyone knows.  So I might as well.  What’s the point anymore.  I have everything I ever I wanted.” 

Warren sits down and wraps an arm around Charles, lets the younger man cry on his shoulder.  “I’m sorry, Charles.  I’m sure you imagined your homecoming to be different…”

Charles openly sobs on the man’s shoulder, “You can’t possibly know what I feel.  No one can.  Not even Erik.”

* * *

 

Charles is invited to dine with the family.  He respectfully declines.

He avoids them and closes himself up in his bedroom.  Hank comes in and tells him his wounds look good.  Then Remy checks on him, crowing outside the door about the delicious dinner he just prepared.  When Charles still refuses to come, Remy leaves but sends a plate of food up to his room.  Charles brings it inside and leaves it at the table.  He’s not hungry, his stomach turns and his head pounds from crying.

Charles lies in bed and looks at his cracked cellphone.  His little red book and the old burner cell phone that saved his life are in his bag.  He doesn’t think Darwin went through it… but if he did, he’d find the number Gabrielle used to contact him.  It’s possible, if he was reporting on who Charles slept with and when…

Charles wipes his face, _“Friendship is the biggest con in this world.  I keep falling for it.”_

Charles ignores anyone who comes to the door and sleeps with his head under a pillow.

* * *

 

The next morning, Charles wakes up to another surprising sight.

Erik lays across the foot of the bed.  He’s half dressed.  Shirt unbuttoned, one shoe off, tie still wrapped around his hand.  There’s a thick cotton ball taped to his neck.  But otherwise, he doesn’t look harmed from his manhunt.  He must have snuck in and crashed there, thinks Charles.  Erik looks cute in his sleep, despite the frown lines and knit eyebrows.  He looks like a puppy having a bad dream.  Charles wants to hold him and tell the man it’s going to be okay.  He starts to sit up and the stitches in his side pull and the pang of pain brings him back to reality.

This is his husband.  And he’s not some cute businessman.  He yelled at Charles, used him, and threw him out on the street.  Came back and demoted him to ‘whore’.  Charles squashes all of his affection down.  He wants to tell Erik the truth, but first… petty revenge.

He kicks out.  Hard.  And Erik falls to the floor in a confused heap.

The man scrambles to get back up, brandishing a gun.  He looks around the room and settles on Charles.  “Did you just kick me out of the bed?”

Charles crawls forward and calmly takes the gun away from Erik’s grasp.  “You kicked me out of the house.  It’s the _least_ you deserve.”

“I’m sorry,” starts Erik.

“I don’t want to hear it!”

“Just listen.  I’m sorry I hurt you,” he sits on the bed but waits for Charles to put the gun down.  “I’m sorry we came to this point.  The last thing I want is to hurt you.  I love you.  I love you more than you can understand.  And that’s why...”

“Shut up, Erik!”  Charles gets off the bed paces the floor in front of the door.  “You’re still doing it!  You’re still acting like I’m a child!  You didn’t just hurt me, you crushed me.  Everything I believed about us was torn apart.  Why?”  His voice breaks, “Why are you even in here?”  He wonders if one of the others have already told Erik the truth.

But Erik looks away, like he’s ashamed of thoughts in his own head.  “I… I told you.  We could go back to how it was.  I was wrong to pressure you into marriage.  I was wrong to think I could keep you.  You’re not built for that… you don’t want that life and I shouldn’t have built walls around you and caged you in.  I’m trying to set you free again, Charles.  I can’t let you go and I can’t live without you.  Please.  If you’d still have me as… as a regular.”

“No!” snaps Charles.  “You, piece of shit!  You don’t get to come in here ask that of me!”  It hurts worsts here, in the room he grew up in, being groomed to be a good, respectable man.  Having the love of his short life call him that…  Charles’s heart twists and burns.  He feels like he could combust with all the feelings boiling in him.  “Get out.”

Charles points to the door but Erik keeps his seat.  “My grandmother wants us to talk, so we’re talking.  And I’m staying until I can make you understand.”

“Understand what?  That you think I’m good for only one thing,” he falls to knees.  Its dramatic, but it gets the point across. 

Erik’s sad eyes are full of tears, “Don’t do that.”

“It’s what you want,” says Charles.  He crawls over and rubs at Erik’s thighs but the man slaps his hands away.  Charles persists, moving to the belt and unzipping his pants.  “You want me back in my place.  Where I’m comfortable, right?  Down in the gutter where I belong.  Mouth open.  Hands and knees, right?  You thought you could polish me up into something worthy of hanging off your arm…”

Erik catches Charles’s hands in one hand and holds him back by shoulder with the other.  “You don’t understand.  You’re insulted and hurt, but I’m thinking of you.  For the first time since we met, I’m really thinking of you.  Not just what I want.  Please listen.  I don’t want to give you up… but if it makes you happy…”

“You promised me we’d grow old together.  You promised me, you’d love me and take care of me.  You promised you’d be my friend.  And I promised the same thing.  And I didn’t _lie_.  But you don’t care.  Your head is too far up your ass to listen.  I never thought you were this insecure, but Mona told me.  About your scar and Azazel and some cat-eyed trollop.  So I understand.  You’ve been hurt before, but that’s no reason to cut me apart.”

Erik pulls Charles up, and Charles goes with it, sitting in his lap and feeling déjà vu for crying like a baby all over again.

But Erik doesn’t walk out this time.  Or say anything stupid.  He sighs, and buries his face in Charles’s hair.  Minutes go by and they sit and rock each other.  Charles has been scared of how much Erik loves him.  Ever since Erik swore to go to war with the Hellfire, Charles has been afraid of what lengths Erik would go to for him.  What he would do and who he would hurt.  He’s pushed him away and held him back.   He can empathize now with Erik’s feeling this relationship is futile.  They spent all that time on the island and Charles still came home, adamant that he would he live on his own.  Charles wraps his arms carefully around Erik kisses the man under his chin.  “I’m sorry.”

“I thought I was supposed to be apologizing?”

Charles gives him a little nip under the chin, “You are.  But I wanted to go first.  I’m clearly the more grownup of two of us.”

“Clearly,” says Erik.  He raises his hands, rubbing Charles on the side until his shirt rides up.  “Are you okay?”

Charles gently wipes a thumb over Erik’s improvised bandage, “Are you?”

Erik shakes his head, “No.  But I will be if I still have you.  I am _so_ _sorry_ , Charles.”  He kisses Charles on the forehead, “I’m so sorry.  Please, please forgive me.  I’d do anything to go back in time and take those words back.”

Charles sniffles and climbs out of Erik’s lap.  Erik’s hands follow him, but Charles backs up to the door.  He takes a deep breath.  “Erik.”  He pauses and thinks of all the things he has to say.  And he worries again.  Worries about how Erik will look at him.  Worries Erik already knows and is working with Mona.  Perhaps the family conspired this whole time to take him and his inheritance.  But why… 

Erik stands up and walks over and looks Charles in the eye, his face serious and concerned.

“I’m hungry,” lies Charles.  In truth he’s just lost his appetite.

Erik smiles down at him, “I heard your Cajun chef has taken over Old Nana’s kitchen.  Let’s get something…”

“Wait,” Charles shakes his head.  He runs hands across Erik’s shoulders, “Wait let me see you first.  I missed you.”  He looks at Erik from under his lashes and the man seems to melt, “I really missed you.”

Erik trails a finger down Charles’s arm and backs up to the bed.  “I’ve missed you, too.  And the last time was so horrible between us.  I thought… I just knew it would be the last time.  I’m sorry.  I can’t say how sorry I am.”

Charles keeps his back to the door.  He locks it with a lopsided grin, “You could try and make it up to me.  Lie down and close your eyes.”

Erik gives wipes his face, “I’m covered in snot.  It can’t be very sexy…”

“Just do as you’re told.  Close your eyes, cover your ears and count to twenty.”  Charles grins.  Thinking they both could use some levity.

Erik complies, putting his feet up in the bed.

“Shoes,” chimes Charles.  Erik’s pet peeve is shoes on the furniture and bedding.  Charles is happy to remind him while his husband is following orders.  Erik kicks off his remaining shoe and lays out in center of the bed.  He tosses his shirt and starts to remove his pants but Charles clicks his tongue.  “No, no.  Leave that, for now.”

Erik smiles, lays down with his eyes closed and covers his ears.  “Is this what you want?”

When Charles is satisfied that Erik can’t hear, he unlocks the door and slips out.

His plan to tell his husband the truth can wait for them both to cool off.  He’s still mad.  And pulling a little prank makes him feel better, if not entirely mature.  So he walks off and finds Remy for a quiet breakfast.  They eat off dishes that may have belonged to his mother and sit where Charles has fond memories of eating with his late mother’s staff.  Erik comes after him eventually and they exchange smiles as Remy cusses and threatens to spit in anything he plates for Erik.

Erik takes it like a champ and eats anything put in front of him.  Charles, picks through his plate.  His appetite still hasn’t returned.


	12. Is That A Gun In Your Pocket

After breakfast they return to the bedroom to get changed.  Erik has sent a gopher for his things and patiently waits in the bathroom while sitting on the toilet lid and indiscreetly eyeing Charles in the shower.

Charles allows it.  It might be the last time Erik looks at him like that.  Not with lust exactly.  Not with pity… He looks at where Charles keeps his stitches out of the water.  “Careful…”

“It’s alright,” says Charles.  “It’s been two days and they’re very shallow cuts.  Hank said I could get them a little wet.  No long soaks.” 

Erik nods, and goes back to quietly watching Charles.

Charles has made up his mind.  But he wants, _needs_ _time_ , he thinks.  He offered Erik a private tour of the mansion and he accepted.  Charles remembers every room in the house.  Every crack in its almost perfect façade, every detail drilled into him by his mother at first and later the house staff.  He figures he can walk and stall until he can’t anymore.  Walk and stall until some proof of his existence shouts at Erik. 

It would pull the weight of admitting anything off his chest.  Part of him reasons it’s the simplest way to tell the truth.  Another part calls him coward and whispers ‘ _it’s not a big deal’_.  Charles promptly puts that part of him in its place.  Smothers it with seven years of fear, pain, loneliness, and desperation.  And before that, the living nightmare of being pimped out by his stepfather for months and months...  There were days in the beginning with Erik when he feared he end up another sex worker at the hotel.  Tossed aside by Erik and forever pressed under Azazel’s thumb.  No, he doesn’t need that little voice nagging away telling him it’s _safe_ to share the only thing that’s kept him sane in all this time.  There’s no such thing as safe.  He’s always known that.  Stabbing or no stabbing.

Erik clears his throat and stands up.  “Could I join you?”

Charles rolls his eyes, “I wouldn’t risk it, Erik.  I’m still angry.  I could drown you.”  He gives his husband a side eye and turns his back.  He puts away his wash cloth and looks at Erik through a little mirror on the shower caddy. He waits for Erik to finally leave the room.

But Erik sighs and sits back down.  He slumps over, head in hands.  “So I’m in the doghouse.”

“It’s not even a question!”

“No.  I know that.  I deserve that.  I hurt you.  I’m so…”

“Don’t,” says Charles.  He tips his head under the spray and lets the pounding water drown out Erik’s next words.  When he pulls away he gasps for air.  He shakes his head, turning back to Erik.   Erik is still wearing yesterday’s clothes.  His strange band aid has peeled free and Charles can see two fine burn blisters.  “What the hell happened to your neck?”  he segues.  Right now he doesn’t want to think of his on the rocks relationship or what he’s going to say on his little tour.

Erik laughs, “Angel put the end of fired rifle to my neck, and told me she’d shove it up my ass.”  He doesn’t look mad about being assaulted by an employee.  “Raven and Darwin had similar words for me.  If you don’t forgive me,” he says looking down at his hands, “There’s good chance they’ll mutiny.  They’d put Raven in charge… Or Darwin.  Angel said it didn’t take much convincing for her to switch loyalties.  Just one dead redhead.”  He bares his teeth in a fake smile, “But that’s the least of my problems.  If she decides to kill me in my sleep or something, I think I’ll go to Bootleg Valhalla.”  He’s rambling and it’s so unlike the confident man Charles knows, that it gets its attention.  He studies Erik’s face and posture.  Erik is still bent over, looking drawn and aged.  “You didn’t plan all this, did you?”  His voice is high and light like he’s joking, but his hands are shaking.  Charles frowns at them.

“Hey,” he says reaching out.  “Come here.”

Erik looks up, with watery eyes and a weak smile.  He strips quickly and joins Charles in shower.  He pulls the curtain shut behind him, but even in the faint light Charles can see abrasions on Erik’s knuckles.  They’re red and swollen and Charles is careful turning Erik’s hands in his own.  Erik is quiet and passive for the exam.  Charles is sure these hands have just beaten the life out someone.  He’s thankful he didn’t have to see it.  Their matching wedding bands glint in the water and Charles reminds himself to see that they’re cleaned and polished later.  If there is a later for them.  Erik is trembling on his side of the shower, out of the water.

“Come here,” says Charles again.  He turns around and pulls one of the bruised hands with him.  Erik follows, stepping just behind him and into the spray.  Charles feels Erik sigh behind him.  A light kiss to the back of his head.  Erik wraps his arms around Charles and presses close, but there’s nothing sexual between them.  No rush to start rutting or panting in here.  Charles squeezes one of the arms around his waist.  He’s going to miss this, he thinks.  For all their conflict and mistrust, and misunderstandings.  No one has ever held him like Erik does.  Things just feel different in his arms.  Safer and more solid.  Charles can feel Erik’s heart beating a mile a minute behind him.  He waits for Erik to say whatever he thinks he has to say.

Erik sobs first, hiding his face in the back of Charles’s neck before kissing his ear.  “I’m sorry.  I’m sorry.”  He squeezes Charles in his arms, “I’m not a good man.  I do terrible things.  I know how you feel about that.  I know how… how unimpressed you are.”

“Damn right,” says Charles.  It’s the truth.  “I’m not in slightest bit interested.  I just want you to be safe.”  He turns his head to the side and Erik tries to kiss him.  He tries to kiss Charles at the corner of his mouth, but Charles ducks away.  He turns in Erik’s arms and puts his hands over Erik’s lips.  He parts them slowly, letting his fingers trail over Erik’s mouth.  Erik lets him, kissing the points of Charles’s blunt fingers tips instead.  He notices the bitten nails on one hand and nips at it.  Charles gives him a sad smile, “I’ve been anxious.”

“And that’s my fault.”

Charles nods, “There’s just too much going on.  I’m scared for you.  I’m scared for me.  I want to believe you’d never hurt me…”  His takes Erik by the hand and leads them down to his side.  Erik yanks his hand away like he’s been burned.

“I told you, I didn’t do this.  I swear it.  I could kill Azazel for even laying a finger on you…”

“And I want to believe that.  I do,” Charles leans into Erik and rests his head on his shoulder.  The water beats down on his back of his neck.  He takes a deep breath, and his heart pings.  Erik smells so good, he thinks.  He kisses him on collarbone reaches up to wrap his arms around his neck.  With Erik’s arms around him, they just sway in the water for a long time and Charles thinks back to their wedding dance.  The quiet moment when the room disappeared and it was just the two of them.  Despite what some people would say, Charles is not a sex addict.  He at least doesn’t really think so.  But he can’t seem to catch his breath, and Erik does smell _so_ good.  Charles is almost embarrassed when his cock starts to fill up and ruins the moment.

Erik’s body is more mature, Charles thinks.  His cock isn’t getting hard between them, but he holds Charles closer, gives him friction to work against his thigh.  He lets Charles move without taking anything.  He massages Charles’s back with one hand and holds his head with the other.  “I love you,” he whispers between kisses.  “More than anything in this whole world.  I love you.”

Charles sighs.  The need to get off is at war with his distrust.  How much he hates himself for believing they have something special.  Erik’s hand slides down to hold and squeeze his ass.  Charles sighs again and pants against Erik’s neck.  He rolls his hips, arching his back whenever Erik teases until finally a wet finger slides into his hole.  Erik pushes in and out in the warm water, his own cock finally stirring against Charles’s belly.  Charles slows down, afraid he’s about to come against Erik’s leg right there.  He pulls away.  He gives Erik a half-lidded look before pulling back the curtain.  “ _What is wrong with me,”_ thinks Charles.  _“Sex is not cure all… No John ever solved all his problems by sweating on my back.  And fucking hasn’t improved our issues before.  And after the last time…”_   

He steps out the tub and grabs a towel and listens as Erik turns off the water and follows him. 

Charles starts thinking that sex in the bedroom will put him off the whole thing.  “ _That’s it.  That is the one place I could never tarnish.”_ He almost runs into the next room hoping he’ll calm down.  His fluffy duck sits on the bed and Charles hears his mother’s voice in head.  _“Little boys don’t touch themselves, Charles.  It’s rude.”_   It helps to wilt his erection, but then Erik is close again.

“What’s wrong now?”  Erik says while taking another towel and draping it over Charles head.  Charles is happy to be temporarily blinded.  A glistening, naked, wet Erik Lehnsherr is not going to help things.  He mumbles about not feeling well and Erik leaves it.  “At least you can get dressed now.”  He looks at the floor where bags still are.  “I think Toad got lost with my things.  There’s nothing over there that will fit me.”  He smiles, “Except maybe one shirt.”

Charles blushes.  And curses himself for blushing.  And curses Erik for still having this effect on him.  “Sure there is… Or you can wear something of Remy’s.”  He backs away, tying the towel around his waist tight.  He’s determined not to set his cock free.  “ _Not in my real room,”_ he thinks.  He puts his foot down on his libido and holds it there.  _“I’ll take another shower.  Cold.  Ice cold.  While thinking of something horrible.  Like Mrs. Gregorivich’s feet.  The worst feet, ever.  Yes, that should do.”_   With his back to Erik he peeks down at himself to check on the progress of operation, ‘Not Here’.  It’s going well, he thinks.  He’s going soft again.

But then Erik.  Damn Erik.  Damn Erik and his damn hands are upon him.

 

Charles shudders as an innocent brush of fingers down his spine instantly redirect blood flow back to his cock.  And his poor _depraved_ mind concedes defeat.  He turns to Erik, “We don’t have anywhere to be yet?”

Erik smiles at him, that knowing smile.  A little sadness still lingering at the corners.  A little melancholy still lining his mouth.  But he smiles like he knows everything going on in Charles’s head.  And he’s happy with it.  “Before the tour you mean?”  Charles almost panics for a moment but, Erik laughs and finally walks over.  “Are you sure?”

Charles answers with a kiss.  He pulls away points at the tip of his nose.  “First, kiss me here.” Erik bends down, giving him a quick him kiss.  “And here,” says Charles pointing to his chin.  Erik kisses him there and before Charles can point again, Erik takes his hand.  He leans in slowly and kisses at the corner of his mouth.  Whatever anyone says, Charles is not crying.  He blinks until he’s eyes cooperate and backs away to the bed.  He lays down, breathless and biting his lip.  “And here?”  He asks while spreading his legs.  He leaves the where up to Erik.

Erik kneels on the bed and bends over Charles.  He opens the towel and hums, “Have you been trimming?”  Charles blushes, “No.  Not since Cat night on the island.”  Erik grins at the memory of honeymoon antics and Charles raises his hips, letting Erik toss the thing off the bed.  Then he folds over to press a soft kiss just over the stitches.  Then one near Charles’s navel and another in the center of his chest. 

Charles struggles with himself, keeping still while Erik moves over him.  He can see the button-eyed duck on the floor.  If it could talk it would probably quack at him about being a naughty boy.  Charles shakes his head, “It’s not quacking.  I’m going a little crazy.”

Erik hums, “We’ll start seeing a couple therapist or something…”

Charles laughs as Erik kisses down his belly and rakes his fingers down his thighs, “I didn’t know I said that out loud.”

“Then we’ll definitely start seeing a therapist,” he grins up as he deliberately misses Charles’s cock.  Still kissing his middle while his fingers move to Charles’s ass, spreading and kneading him while Charles writhes on the bed.  Erik hovers and the head of Charles’s cock skims up and down his neck.  He does it on purpose, settling over Charles until the thin line of precum starts from his clavicle to up his chin.  He sits up then, wipes it away with two fingers and licks it clean. 

Charles cries at the sight, “Okay.  I’m sorry I walked out on you earlier.  Are you punishing me or something?  Am I in the doghouse?”  He pouts and barely resists putting his hands on himself.  

Erik bends over again, and backs up enough for the tip to bump his chin.  He opens his mouth as he looks up at Charles, teasing before he finally moves to kiss the head of his cock.  Charles sighs in relief and sinks in the bed, throwing an arm over his eyes.  Erik licks and presses wet kisses to the head and shaft.  He goes lower and tongues Charles on the balls, as a hand gently rolls them. 

Charles’s legs tremble when Erik finally gets to really taking his cock.  He sucks him and licks while a thumb presses against Charles hole, not entering but the pressure of it just builds anticipation.  Chares comes in surprisingly fast order and is almost too embarrassed to move his arm.  “What just happened?”

“Its fine,” says Erik.  He rubs his hands up and down, slicking Charles with his own cum.  Then licking his palm and humming.  “Do you have anything else?”

Charles imagines he’s already beet red with embarrassment.  He bites his lip, “Oh!  You mean lube?”  He doesn’t feel like moving, his legs are like jell-o and the room is suddenly too warm.  “In my bag,” he pants.

Erik gets up and quickly returns with the entire ratty bag.  “It worries me, you know.  That you never threw out your getaway bag.”

Charles bites his lip again, “Well… we’re always on the run from something aren’t’ we?”  he lies. 

Erik pinches him on the thigh but drops it.  He finds what he was looking for and coats his fingers before stretching Charles easily with two fingers.

Charles feels lazy, and sleepy… maybe weak from going day and night without eating properly.  He lays there and thinks of their first time.  And the second and the third.  A slow smile creeps across his face and laughs a little, “Remember when you had Azazel on the phone that first morning?  I think that’s why he’s never liked me.” Erik looks settled between his legs.  He only nods and keeps to the important work of fingering his husband open.  But his eyes dart back and forth to the stitches.  It feels good, but Charles frowns, “Is he alive?”

“Hm,” says Erik.  “Of course he’s alive.  I just had long talk with him about putting his hands on you.  In fact…”

Charles sits up and holds Erik’s hand, “In fact what?”  he asks expecting some gruesome story of torture on his behalf.  The sort of thing he hates to inspire from Erik.

Erik looks sheepish as he wipes off his fingers on the bed and goes to dig through the bag.  “In fact, I sent him to California.  He’s on a new assignment.  I’m ending the enterprises at the hotel.  All of the contracts are being sold to Ororo.  My fingers,” he says pulling out Charles’s favorite handcuffs and tossing them on the floor.  “Are officially out of that pie.”

Charles is up then.  Those words are something he never thought he’d hear.  He’s up in Erik’s arm hugging and kissing his face.  “Erik!”  He kisses him on the nose, the ear, the forehead.  “Really?  Truly?”  He kisses Erik on the mouth with a loud smack and pulls away to look him in the eyes, a giant smile settled on his face.  “You’re not a pimp anymore!”

Erik looks affronted, “I never was… not really.  That was Azazel business and he paid me for protection and renting spaces.  Now that relationship is gone.  He can do whatever he wants on the side while working in California.  But I won’t have part in it, not ever again.”

Charles lets out a scream (a manly un-squealy scream of rapture) and Erik covers his ears.  “Erik really!  Oh, my darling!”  He throws himself into Erik lap, ignoring the twinge of ache on his side.  He wraps his legs around Erik and lines them up before sinking down on his husband’s cock.  Charles is grinning from ear to ear when he starts fucking himself while his stunned husband just rolls with it.  “You’re not a pimp anymore!”  he repeats and kisses Erik deeply.

Erik holds him under the arms and tries to organize their lovemaking.  He settles himself to be more comfortable with the weight of Charles happily riding his cock.  He looks up at Charles in wonder, “It bothered you?  I never knew.  You didn’t say anything.”

“Fingers in pies,” says Charles as he works himself into being hard again.  He takes Erik’s hand and guides it around his own cock as he rolls his hips.  “You said.”  Erik gives him a hard squeeze before he starts tugging.  Charles’s mouth falls open, a wide ‘o’, as he appreciates the sensation before he finishes his thought.  “I was afraid for a while there… I was afraid I was going to be given away.”  At least he’s being honest, says the duck on the floor.

“Charles.”  Erik hides his face in his neck as he tries to keep up with Charles’s pace.  “Oh god, Charles.  You’ll be the death of me at this rate.”

Charles grins, “Keep up, old man.”  He moves faster, grinding his hips down hard and coming up fast.  He works himself off Erik’s cock once or twice but Erik leans back on his hands and gives Charles more room to bend over.  He pants with the effort, his thighs burning and Erik breathes harshly against his neck.  Charles holds on tight to Erik’s shoulders, “Come on, darling.  Come on with me.”

Erik grunts and bites down Charles neck.  He pulls Charles by hair and leads him in a deep kiss.  They come at almost the same time.  Charles falls on Erik’s chest and they lay, stuck together and grinning for a long quiet moment in the morning sunlight.

They almost dose off together like that but Erik has the presence of mind to roll over and get the towel off the floor.  He cleans himself off and goes back to the bathroom.  He returns with a wash cloth and kneels on the floor.  He’s quiet and doesn’t look Charles in the eye while he wipes him clean.

Charles sits back and hold out hands, “Hey, I don’t want a repeat of last time.  Do you still want me?”

Erik blinks away a single tear, “You’re the only I person I want… But I was just thinking.  Do you want me?”

Charles sits up on his knees.  “I love you.  I mean it.  Listen to me this time.  I mean it.”

Erik sobs a little and looks away before crashing down on the bed, “And I want to believe that but…”

Charles throws his hands up, “But what!  What more proof do you need?”  Erik sits on the bed, still naked as a jaybird but the mood is gone.  Sex has again let Charles down and rolls his eyes at the thought this time would be any different. 

Charles lays down by him and scratches a hand through thin chest hair.  Erik finally turns to him, “It took you six days to find a new client.”

Charles gasps, “You are not a client!  You’ve never really been one…”  he starts.

“But it took you six days to find a new John.  Six days of me lavishing you with attention and buying you clothes and sitting up in the hotel suite, and hours after I left you one morning you let someone in the room.  You poached one Az’s regulars.”  He grimaces, “And I let it go.  I tried to let it go.  I paid you.  Like you asked me to.  I looked away when my partners came out of my bookstore at six in the fucking morning.  I looked away when you let anyone else mark you…  Did you know Telford sat across from me in meeting and asked if he could make use of you?  And there were others.  Men and women that used to fear me, looked me in the eye and asked if they could bed you.  Or they would just let me know what service you provided and the rates you were charging.  ‘Aren’t you feeding that poor boy at home?  Don’t you ever fuck him, he’s insatiable’, ‘you’ve roped yourself a born cockslut.’   Do you remember that day the Heart of Gold burned?”

Erik’s words sting but Charles nods, of course he remembers it.  The hike, the talking.  The bruised hands and the smoke and blood. “Of course I do.”  He frowns worried this is more about his proud husband’s precious ego…

“Before I came home, I had an informant happy to tell me where Ro’ was in exchange for an hour with you.  She laughed at me.  At us.  And I just snapped Charles.  Not an hour after breaking her neck, I came crawling home to you.… And.”  He shakes his head.  “And that last day in solitary, one of the guards came forward.  He swore up and down he had you before.  He said it was easy.  He just picked you off a swing set one day, and had the best blow job in his life.  Then I came home to those papers and the talk of you and Raven and I just _broke_.  I’m sorry, Charles.  I tried to keep my heart open to the thought… that things would change.  If I kept treating you right, you would trust me.  But you _didn’t_.  And you don’t.”

Oh thinks Charles.  He remembers that night when he dismissed Erik being quiet and withdrawn.  When he chalked it up to pride or illness.  Just after he considered taking a new client.  Charles gnaws at his lip, “I do.”

Erik doesn’t look convinced.  He eyes still slanted with sadness.  The edge of it making him look older and hard.  Strained and almost unhealthy again.  “No you don’t.”

“I do!”  Charles barrels forward and kisses Erik hard on the mouth.  He grabs the man by hair and pulls, shakes him by the shoulder as if he could shake sense into him.  “I put this ring on for real, Erik.”  He shows him his hand.  “I…  want to trust you.  And I’m sorry I hurt you before.  Please don’t look at me like that,” he crumbles, “Please…”

Erik looks like a dim light in him is being rekindled.  “I don’t know, Charles.  I don’t know what to think.  I’m sorry.”  He gives Charles a sad smile, “I’m serious about that couples’ therapy.  We can work something out.  Something to keep better boundaries or trust exercises.  I don’t care if I have to let Dr. Phil move in with us, we can do this.  I want to believe that much.”

Trust, thinks Charles.  This is all about mutual trust.  Or lack thereof.  And if Erik’s done something as big as giving up part of his criminal network and sending his evil best friend away, Charles can take a fall too.  He leans back looks at the duck on floor for moral support.  It chooses now to be silent in his head so Charles has to make up his own mind.  He sighs before climbing off the bed.

Erik looks up at him with a worried face, “Where are you going?”

Charles goes to his bags and digs out something to wear.  He pulls on a pair of white jeans and a long sleeved shirt.  Then the Metallica shirt and a loose pair of jogging pants.  “Get dressed.  I’m taking you on that tour of the house now.”  He winces as he stands back up, “God I’m going to feel that for a while.”

Erik nods and gets up slowly from the bed, “You tried to kill us.  I’m on disability you know.”

“Ha,” says Charles.  Keeping the tone light between them now.  While his mind rehearses what he’s going to say.  Where he’s going to go.  “You recovered very well and you’re in excellent shape.  Most of the time.”

“Still, it hurts to be me,” says Erik as he slips the shirt over his head.  Its looser with the weight he lost working out so much in the last couple of months.  The pants are short on his legs, but they ride down low on his hips.  He looks like a hobo again and Charles smiles at the memory of day he got in the car with couple of gangsters.  “What,” asks Erik.  “Is there come on my face again?”

Charles laughs and takes Erik by the hand.  He leads him out the door, determined to finally shed a light on his past.

* * *

 

They started the tour upstairs.  Charles showed Erik his mother’s room, where Old Nana was changing and in no mood to be bothered.  She ran them off with curses and slammed door.  Charles and Erik fled like chastised children, running off hand in hand to another room.  Charles leads him to third floor’s stately guest rooms.  A handful of them had been aired out.  They find Alex has claimed the Red Room.  Raven has taken the Blue Room.  A handful of guards walk about the halls. 

“Did you bring more men with you,” asks Charles.  “I thought no one knew about this place.”

Erik shrugs, looking too casual in the grand house surrounded by his mercenaries.  “This place isn’t on Hellfire’s radar yet.  Hell, I didn’t know about it until Magda told me.  That was only a few days ago.”  He looks up, “Who’d build a damn _castle_ way out here.  And why would my cousin think this is the kind place to send orphans.”  He rolls his eyes, “You see this?”  He points to the fine art on one wall and waves his hands dramatically.  “This is Old Nana playing favorites again.”  He smirks, “She never bought me a castle.”

Charles laughs.  “You only think you’re not her favorite because she dotes on your cousin.  But she obsesses over you.  You should hear talk about you.”

“Oh I’ve heard,” says Erik.  “She’s already smacked me on the ear and called me a chubby brat.  That’s how most of our interactions work out.  I do something stupid.  She lets me know how disappointed she is that I’ve done something stupid.  Then, reminds me how big a baby I was, then offers me cake.”

Charles laughs again and this time, his voice echoes off the wall.  He takes Erik down to the ballroom, then the dining room, drawing rooms still covered in sheets.  He wonders if it’s his imagination, but his voice sounds more like his mother.  He follows a vision of her walking the halls.  Walks with his hands behind his back, holds himself like a prince, not a thug.  Charles, and really Charles not Simon or Martin, recites what he knows about aged tapestries and the architect’s signature style.  He points out secret alcoves and tells Erik the story of his grandfather driving through the kitchen wall, which had to be rebuilt with inferior supplies during the war. 

When Charles mentions an elaborate bomb shelter under the house, Erik laughs.  “This place is a museum.  I guess you’ve been reading, Freckles.  Did Nana give you a book about the house or did you find records in the library?”  He bumps into Charles’s shoulder and smiles at him.  He looks proud and happy to be learning something new from Charles.  But Charles can’t answer that.  At least not yet.

So he asks Erik what does he already know about the house.

Erik shrugs, walking slowly behind Charles.  “It belonged to some shithead researcher.  Kurt Marko.  I met him once.  I helped throw him out one night at the Heart of Gold.  He kept rambling about having a contract to sell.”  Erik rolls his eyes, “Ororo’s mum called him vermin.  I heard he moved after that.  I think the house was on for sale a year before he died.”  He makes a face, “You probably don’t want to hear this, but I think my family had something to do with it.  I don’t really know.  Uncle Mischa tried to keep me out of the business when there was foul work going on.  But maybe Old Nana always wanted this house.  Back when the base of operations was still in New York, she really envied how the other half lived.  I thought she liked it down the coast, with her houses and the Worthington yuppies adoring her.”  He traces his fingers along the wall.  “I don’t know.  This place too big and cold if you ask me.”

Charles feels offended for multiple reasons, and now he’s more worried about Mona’s intentions.  Still he presses on.  Leading Erik back downstairs to the dark hall where his portrait is still hanging.  Mona had most of his family’s things removed but she left this here.  Deliberately.  Charles swallows as they pass under a doorway engraved with an ‘X’ and the family crest.  But Erik is looking very pointedly at his ass, paying no attention to his surroundings.  “Erik!” Snaps Charles.

“What, Professor?”  Erik grins with all his teeth, “Should I be taking notes on this lecture?”

Charles rolls his eyes and yanks Erik by the hand until they’re in the hall, the portraits all starring down at them. 

“This is a lineage gallery.  Portraits of the entire family going back five generations hang in here.”  He stops in front of his great-great grandfather.   There’s not much family resemblance but the name engraved is undeniable.

Erik stands there, stunned.  He’s silent while Charles wraps a hand around his. 

“This is Charles Xavier, the first.  He built this house,” Charles tugs and Erik looks down at him with wide eyes.  Then follows as Charles stops at another portrait.  His father eyes look down at them, frozen in time with perfect blue pigment.  “And Brian Xavier.  Sharon Xavier.  The last true owners of this house.  Before Kurt Marko married into the family.  And stole it.  Stole everything.  The name, the money… everything.”  His voice catches at the end as he steps again, to the last framed picture, in the darkest corner of the hall.  “And this is Charles Francis Xavier.”

“Charles?”  Erik doesn’t look up the painting of the blue-eyed baby.  He stares at Charles in the dim light.  He raises his hands and frames his face.  “Charles Xavier?”

Charles hiccups, “I told you…”

“You told me.  And I looked and found a dead body.  I couldn’t find _you_.  I don’t know what I thought I’d find in the truth.”  He leans down and kisses Charles on the forehead.  “But I still love you.”

Charles shakes his head, “That’s not all.  There’s still so much.  I have to tell you everything.  But some of it hurts...  And I was so scared for so long,” he cries.  “Sometimes you looked at me like you knew…”

“Knew what?  That I loved you more than life itself.  All I’ve ever known is that you’re special and you deserved better in your life.  I could tell that much.  And it’s all I wanted for you.  With me by your side.”  He gathers Charles in his arms and they cry, Charles on Erik’s shoulder while Erik holds him tight and kisses the side of his head.

They’re interrupted by the sounds of running footsteps.  One of Mona’s men run into the room, “We’re under attack!”

“What!  Where?!  By who?!”  Erik puts Charles behind him and they follow the man out to the hall.  He turns on them with his gun raised.

“Selene Gallio sends her regards,” he says with the gun leveled at Erik’s head.  “And you.  You have an appointment to keep.” 

Charles raises his hands, “Anything.  Just let Erik go.”  He tries, preferring if no one gets shot today.  He steps forward, hands raised to surrender.  And in the second that man takes his eyes off of Erik, Charles swings.  He knocks the gun out of the man’s hand and Erik rushes him.

Erik rolls on the ground with the mole, and Charles takes up his gun while they wrestle.  He fires a warning shot at the floor.

“Stop it!  Leave Erik alone and stay down!”

Erik elbows the man in the head and he finally desists, laying out on the floor, “Don’t shoot, kid.  It’s nothing personal.”

“Selene Gallio sent you,” says Erik standing up to join Charles.  He takes the gun and points it at the man, “That makes it rather personal to me.  What were you going to do with Charles?”

The man shrugs, “I don’t know.  I don’t know… They want they want him brought back alive.”

“Who’s they?”

The man looks down, “I told you.  Selene Gallio…”

Charles and Erik share a look, knowing there’s more to this.  Erik nods his head, “Go on ahead.  I’ll deal with this.”

“Erik, no.”  Charles avoids looking down at the man.  A part of him thinks of the imported rug that will be ruined.  And the fact that he knows almost everything that’s ever happened to this house.  And there’s never been a murdered soul, no hearts beating under the floorboards.  He swallows but turns away from the scene.

“Go on, Charles.  I’m right behind you.” 

Charles keeps his back to Erik and walks away quickly.  The bang still catches him by surprise and he covers his ears reflexively.  He hesitates, wanting to look back and be sure Erik is still standing.  But Remy rounds the corners and screams.

“The hell is going on in this place!”  He runs up to Charles, and looks behind at Erik.  Charles covers his ears again Remy screams at the top of his lungs, “Oh my god, that guy’s head!”

Charles sighs and grabs Remy by the arm, “Come on.  We have to find out what’s going on, but you’ll be safe down in the bunker.”

Remy stops to look at Charles like he’s grown a second head, “Bunker?  This ain’t no barracks, kitten.”

Charles rolls his eyes and marches on.  “There’s an old elevator down this hall.  Press the ‘X’ and go all the way down.  I’ll come for you when I know what’s going on.  I have to help Erik.”

“No!  You’re coming with me,” Remy yanks back his arm.  “There’s no way I’m leaving you to these murderous thugs!  Did you see what your paramour just did to that guy’s head!”

Erik walks up to calmly.  He holds the gun at his side, “Would you rather that were my head back there?”

“Don’t answer that,” says Charles.  He follows Erik as Remy throws up his hands and retreats to the elevator.

“Look,” says Erik.  “The bomb shelter?  You can lead him there and be safe.  I’ll send Nan along too.”  He kisses Charles on the head, “Don’t worry.  I won’t let anyone drive into this house.”  He smirks and tries to run off but Charles follows.  Erik shakes his head, “I mean it, Charles.  Go on to safety.  I can’t risk worrying about you.”

Charles insists he can take care of himself just as they come upon Mona and Hank.  Erik’s grandmother is leaning heavily on Hank’s arm.

“Erik.  Take him down to the shelter.  My boys and I will get this under control.”  She opens her house coat and pulls out a surprisingly large assault rifle.

“No!” says all three men at once.

Erik takes the gun from his grandmother and hands her off to Hank.  “Take them _both_ to the shelter.  I don’t have time for this!”   He stomps off while shouldering the rifle himself.

Charles and Mona dissent at the same time.  Mona cursing about boys knowing their place and Charles whines about taking care of himself for years.  They’re both ignored and shooed off with Hank.  They make it a few steps before they hear gunfire outside.  Charles stops then and turns around, running back to Erik before Hank can stop him.

Erik has moved to the office, there he and Alex have a map spread out on the desk.  Alex is giving commands through a radio, “Watch the back entrances.  They’re coming in through that damn tree line.  I knew it.  Keep them away from the house!”  He slams the radio on the table and picks up a gun. 

“Anyone working for needs Nana to be checked.  A mole just tried to shoot me in the head.  They’re Hellfire.  Selene… is alive and well.”  Erik fists his hands on the desk, “And attacking us outright.  I’ve half a mind to just call a swat team.  This is a private residence for fuck’s sake.”

Alex scoffs, “Full of armed mercs and illegal guns.  But sure, boss.  Whatever you think best.  I’m going to join the team on the roof… what the hell is he doing here.”

Erik looks at where Charles is hiding just behind the door.  “Can’t you listen to me.  Just the once?”

Charles shakes his head sheepishly.  “I’m not scared of them.  Let me help.  I can help.  I don’t like killing… but I can do what I have to.”

Erik comes from behind the desk with a gun and a knife.  “Then stay in the shelter.  Protect my grandmother.  She’s not as fast as she used to be.”  He smiles, “Sciatic is giving her trouble this morning.  And toting fifty-pound rifles is not going to help.”

Charles nods and accepts the babysitting job.  “Okay.  Where’s Raven?”

Erik shrugs, “Embarrassing me and counting off her head shots while I stand here.”  He smirks, “Now go on down there and be safe.”

Charles sighs, “Okay.  But kiss me goodbye?”

Erik bends down and kisses him at the corner of his mouth.  “I’ll come down for you when this is all cleared up.  We have a lot of talking to do.  I want to know everything you’re willing to tell me.  You’ll see,” he says taking Charles in his arms.  “We’re going to be good to each from now on.  No more secrets.” 

Charles takes another kiss and backs away long enough to look at Erik’s handsome face in the golden sunlight.  But he frowns as a single faint beam of red bounces off of Erik’s ear.  He looks back at the windows and realizes too late what will happen.  He pushes Erik down while screaming at Alex, “GET DOWN!”

Shots ring out tearing apart the thin gauzy curtains and breaking the windows.  Charles and Erik land on the floor in a heap.  Charles looks over to where Alex is scrambling along the floorboards and trying to load a gun.  Erik rolls them over and goes to join Alex in the fray.  They both fire shots at their attacker until the air is quiet again.  Erik rushes to the radio, “Are you asleep up there?!  They got to the east end of the house!  Get down here!”

Charles is slow move on the floor.  It takes him a long time notice the pinching in his back.  The burning skin.  He coughs and raises his hands just in time stop blood from splattering on his shirt.  “Oh,” he says weakly.  “Erik.”

Erik rushes back down to him, “What’s wrong?” He looks at Charles’s arms and legs.  “Are you hit?  Get up.”

“My back,” whispers Charles.  His lower half feels like its burning.  Pain shooting through his nerves and spine.  “I think something hit my back.”

“No!”  Erik starts to move him but Alex rushes over and stops him.

“Wait!  I’ll go get Hank.  You might make it worst if you move him.  Just don’t let him up.”  He runs out the room and Erik gets up to check the windows.  He struggles to flip the desk over and drag it closer to door for cover.  Then sits by Charles with a loaded gun in his hands.

Charles hiccups and coughs another mouthful of blood.  “Xavier.  Xavier.  I was born 20 years ago.  My favorite color is green…”

“I’m not asking for that,” says Erik.

“I know, I know. I just don’t want to die without telling you,” cries Charles.  “I’ll be twenty-one in February.  Perfectly legal.  And not pregnant.”  He tries to smiles but his face won’t cooperate.  “Ah, god!  It hurts.  They hurt me.  They hurt me.”

Erik kisses his temple, “Just stay still until the doctor comes.  You’re going to be alright.  You have to be.  I can’t lose you now.  Not like this.  Not here.”

The light around Erik’s perfect, handsome face gets dimmer and dimmer.  Charles thinks he must really be dying.  He hopes that despite all his crimes and sins he still goes to heaven.  He hopes there is an afterlife where he can be reunited with his mother.  And meet his father.  He closes his eyes and listens as Erik cries out his name.  Distantly he hears Hank’s voice, mechanically telling the others what to do.  But Erik’s voice is the one that sticks with him. 

“Charles!  Charles!”

* * *

 

There are voices again.

Thin voices piercing through a thick hazy veil that Charles can never quite pull back.  He hears people talking around him.  About him.  About other matters.  Blood counts and donors.  There’s plenty of talking in heaven, thinks Charles.  But no one has noticed him yet.  There’s no angels.  He’s seen his mother a couple of times, but he can’t tell if he imagined her or not.

He hears Erik.  He wants to whispers back I love you’s.  He wants to squeeze the hand he knows is holding his own.  But he can’t pull back that heavy veil.   So he drifts.

Until one day he feels stronger.  He opens his eyes and the first thing he sees is John Wayne.  High up on a television, the Duke is swaggering across the screen daring a pilgrim to draw.  Charles tears up at the sight before taking in his surroundings.  He thinks he’s in a hospital room.  It smells antiseptic.  There’s tubing in his nose and he’s hooked up to IV.  He’s strapped down, immobilized from head to foot in a strange contraption on his bed.  The bed is reclined enough for Charles to really look at the space.  The room is big, there’s no windows and the only light in the room is over his head.  He squints, looking to the side.  And smiles.

Erik is asleep in a small uncomfortable looking chair.  He’s managed to put his feet up on the cushions.  Shoes and all.

Charles sighs as tears falls down his face.  Charles huffs and tries to move his arms.  “Er…” says Charles.  He tries again and finds his voice is shredded.  Hoarse from disuse and his throat aches.  He suspects from being intubated.  He sighs and tries harder.  “Erik.”

His husband jolts up and comes to his side.

“Charles!”  He kisses Charles on the forehead and smooths his hair down while gazing into his eyes.  “You’re awake!  I was so scared.  I’ve slept here the last two nights.  It’s been twelve days… Hank said you’d wake up eventually.  I may owe him an apology.”  He looks back at the door, “I kind of punched him in the balls for not telling me what I wanted to hear.  I’m sorry.”

Charles gives him a weak smile but he can’t find his voice again.  He rasps, “…I”

“Charles?  What’s wrong?  Are you in pain?  That four-eyed lying motherfucker!  I’ll…”

“Ice…”

“What?”  Erik looks around the room frantically before focusing, “Right, or course.”

He hands feeds Charles a few chips until he’s satisfied.  Charles feels able, so he asks, “This isn’t some kinky hospital role play?”  He wiggles his fingers and toes. 

Erik laughs and looks back at the door, “I suppose if Nurse Doom isn’t on his rounds, I can free you.  They want you to stay still while you’re healing.  And I know from experience you thrash in your sleep.”  He bends over the bed and undoes the straps holding Charles down around the chest and arms.  “You were shot twice, my little bruiser.  Taking bullets for me.”  His eyes are wet when takes his seat again and holds Charles by the hand.  “My poor baby.”

Charles would shrug, but he doesn’t think he has the strength.  “It’s not so bad.  It could be worst right?  Can I still…”  He catalogues everything he can do.  Wiggle his toes.  Flex his calves.  He takes a cup when Erik passes it to him, but holds still in the bed.  “My back aches.  But it feels numb.”

“One shot to the back of your right lung.  One shot grazed across your spine.  Hank says it’s an incomplete spinal injury.  He kept telling me we’d know more when the swelling went down.  They’ve kept you sedated all this time.  Can you feel your legs?”

Charles nods, “It’s fine.  See,” he wiggles again and Erik pulls back to sheets to see. 

He claps a hand over his mouth, “Oh god, I’m so relieved.  I was terrified, Charles.  I thought you were paralyzed.  It was all my fault.  You took those bullets for me…”

“Stop that, Erik.  Even if I had been, I couldn’t blame you.  You didn’t pull the trigger.”  He gives Erik a bigger smile but the man doesn’t look any better for it.  “What’s wrong?  The attack on the house.  Was anyone else hurt?”

Erik chokes on a sob and bends over the bed, laying his head on Charles’s leg.  He turns to look Charles in the eye, “No… we pushed them back.  Raven and Angel led a strike on the Hellfire club directly.  We didn’t find Selene but its all quiet right now.  Its Nana.”  His lips curls and Charles can see Mona in the line of his mouth.  “My grandmother passed away, Charles.  Two nights ago in Magda’s house.”  He covers his face and really cries, shoulders shaking as he tries to catch his breath.  “At least she was surrounded by her grandchildren.  She was worried about us.  And I thought, bringing all that trouble to her doorstep…”

“No, Erik.  Don’t do that to yourself.  It’s not your fault.”

“She died in her sleep.  Hank said there was nothing the doctor on call could do.  She was already gone when little Wanda found her in the morning.”  Erik squeezes Charles thigh, “Sometimes I thought I was a such a disappointment to her… but I know she loved me.  I do know…”  He nods, talking more to himself than to Charles.  He digs in his pants pocket and pulls a several worn looking papers.  “She had these letters addressed to me and Magda in her room.  I’ve read and re-read this a million times.  She said she was proud of me.  And she was so happy to have lived long enough to see me find my soulmate.  She wrote about our dance at the wedding and… she left the recipes for my favorite cakes and latkes.”  He grins with all his teeth, “And this.”

Erik stands up and moves to the foot of the bed.  He pulls up an overnight bag and takes out a photo.  “She had this on her bedside wherever she went.”  He hands it over Charles and starts laughing. 

Charles looks down at the faded polaroid.  He can’t read the German writing on the bottom, but he smiles at the big eleven-pound infant.  Erik’s mother in a hospital bed while his father gives the camera two thumbs up.  Erik’s grandfather leans on the bed, his white hair wet and wry smile on his face.  Mona sits in the back with her hands over his face, shoulders high, caught in the middle of a laughing fit.

“According to that caption, I peed on my grandfather and Nana laughed so hard _she_ peed.”  Erik laughs while wiping tears from his eyes, “And it was Papa who first called me a chubby brat.  It was just a good day.”

Charles and Erik hold hands while they remember good times with Mona.  Charles tells Erik about watching Mona step on Logan’s feet at the wedding.  And he’s happy to listen to several funny stories about the old woman.  How she once slapped a pimp for slapping a girl.  How she once slapped a cop for reading her Miranda rights over a traffic stop.  They laugh hard enough to get attention from the nurse and are warned to keep quiet.  The nurse Erik called Doom comes in wearing black scrubs.  He straps Charles back down and threatens to kick Erik out.

They only find this funny as well, and chortle together as the hospital’s hired muscles stomps off.  “I don’t like that man at all,” admits Erik. 

“Erik, no.”  Charles doesn’t know exactly what Erik’s thinking, but he knows it not good.  “Behave yourself, darling.”

“I’m trying.”  He gets up from the side of the bed and goes to the closet, “There’s one more thing.”

He brings back a large box and sits it on the bed.  “Old Nana left this with a note for you.  I haven’t opened it.  Ororo and Warren filled me in on some things, but I didn’t want to take… If you’re not ready to tell me some things, I’m not going to push you anymore.”

“How gracious of you, darling.”  Charles gives him a genuine smile, “What’s all this then?  Things from the house.”

Erik shrugs and hands Charles a letter, penned by Mona recently.

 

**_Dearest Charles,_ **

**_When my son Mischa passed away, I was tasked with opening one his safety deposit boxes.  Out of respect for your father and his brother he kept this, years after their deaths.  I hope it brings you some measure of peace to know what kind of man your father really was.  You deserve good things in life, and I hope you my grandson find happiness together._ **

**_Love,_ **

**_Edmonia_ **

 

 

Charles takes a deep breath.  He sees Erik fidgeting with the box, “Come here and help me go through it.”

“Are you sure?  I mean… If you’d like some privacy.”

Charles shakes his head, “I’m not hiding anything else from you.  Come here.”

Erik joins him, taking his seat again and opening the box for Charles.  Its filled with journals, binders, and loose papers.  He hands Charles a date book from the top of the pile.

“This is from the year I was born.”  He flips through it.  He sees his father’s hand writing.  Charles had read his father’s words before.  He found medical and science journals.  Business interviews.  But this is different.  It is his father’s hand.  Mistakes and corrections.  Side notes.  A list of baby names.  Charles cries before he finishes. 

These are probably the documents Kurt was looking high and low for.  Mischa never knew what he was holding onto and he died not knowing he had notes from Brian’s final experiments and an unpublished thesis _._ But even without a degree like his father, he understands that the research was revolutionary.  Erik wipes Charles face when he done skimming through it all.  “Don’t stretch yourself.  You have plenty of time to go through it.  Rest.”  He packs the box away and helps Charles to settle again.

Charles is exhausted from all the emotions, mourning Mona and his father.  Loving Erik so much he feels like his chest could burst.  And his body is not ready for all the excitement, so goes lax again as the heavy veil that falls over him. 

Charles sleeps and sleeps.  He wakes up to Hank and several doctors examining his chart.  It’s the first time he’s seen the door open.  Erik sits outside, across the hall on the floor.  He’s feet are bare and there’s a bundle of clothes in his hands.

“Hank,” whimpers Charles.  “Tell him to go home and get some rest.”

Hank stares at Charles, “Are you insane?  I can’t tell that man anything.  He’ll have the whole department murdered in their sleep!”  The other doctors all excuse themselves and make a hasty retreat.  They are very smart men and women, Charles is sure.

“Then tell him to come here.  I’ll make him go home.  He can’t stay here like this.  He has to sleep too.  He’ll make himself sick at this rate.”

He looks contemplative, “I could work with that.  I’ve been meaning to get him downstairs for a few scans.  He hates those.”

Charles smiles, “That’s right.  Run him off with medical procedures.”  He waves his hand, “Go on.  You have my blessings.  And if you need to draw blood, use the biggest needle you can find.”  He promptly drops off to sleep again, and this time, imagines he can hear the sound of his father’s voice.  Distant, but kind and gentle.

 

 


	13. Hard to Say Goodbye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow its been a long time.  
> I would make graph showing how ability to update coincides with my work, general health, happiness, and relationship status.
> 
> Anyway, I hope anyone still reading likes this quiet bit before shit goes down.

Charles wakes up for a third time to the sound of Erik and Hank arguing. 

“We’re not missing the funeral!  Get him a chair or something!  What the hell am I paying you for!?”

“Sir, please!  Put your hands down.  If you hit me again, I _will_ call security!”

“Security?  Security?!”

Charles listens as Hank screams and runs out the door, hopefully before Erik does anything.  He opens his eyes and sighs.  “I told you not to abuse the staff while I was out.”

“But he’s so-!”

“Erik, no.”  Charles sighs again and closes his eyes.  He’s probably still be sedated and he feels heavy.  He wants to go back to sleep but his mind finally catches up with the argument.  “Oh,” he says opening eyes.  “When is Mona’s funeral?” 

Erik wraps his arms around himself and paces the floor in front of the bed.  “On Thursday.”

Charles takes a deep breath thinking about how paranoid he was when he found out about the house.  To know now that Erik’s grandmother didn’t deserve that… well, he thinks.  He’ll bring the matter up in the promised counseling later.  His throat still feels dry and raspy, but he croaks out, “I’d like to go.  I owe her an apology.  I should… I should make it in person.”  Erik nods but doesn’t ask what Charles feels sorry for this time.  So, Charles continues, “And I’d like to get out of the bed.  When will the doctors sign off on me moving again?”

Erik shrugs, “If it were up to that little quack, you’d be in here forever.”  He growls before going to the door, “I’m going to get something to eat.  Do you want anything?”

“Something sweet maybe… and Erik?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t hunt down Hank and kill him.  He’s a good friend.”

Erik rolls his eyes, “Fine, Freckles.  And I’ll get you some chocolate.  I’ll be right back.”

Charles watches as the door is left open again.  Angel peeks around from where she’s sitting just outside.  She waves but goes back to her post.  Charles tries to go back to sleep but the clacking sound of heeled shoes keeps him up.  A small woman walks past Angel with a clipboard and badge out. 

Charles looks up as she comes in the room and closes the door.  “Simon Ludlow-Lehnsherr?  I’m Dr. McTaggart, the specialist consulting with Dr. McCoy.  I’m just going to ask you a few questions about your mobility.”

Charles frowns up at her.  He’s already met all the specialists working with Hank.  While Erik loomed over them.  And her name is terribly familiar, “McTaggart?”

She nods, “I understand you were shot at home.  Was it an accident?  Or did someone attack you?”

Charles muddles, “It was an attack of course.  I wouldn’t accidentally shoot myself in the back.  Who are you?”  He narrows his eyes as he remembers where he heard that name before.  The memory of the night Erik was arrested and he was taken comes flooding back.  He remember the glossy card he tossed away and bares his teeth, “Get out.  Now.”

The woman sighs and takes up Erik’s seat.  “I didn’t think you’d remember me, Mr. Lehnsherr.”  She shakes her head, “I had hope you’d contact me sooner.  If you had my help, you be in this place.  All you had to do was call.”

“You’re CIA.  And you’re not needed or wanted here.  As I said, get out.  If I call out,” he starts to threaten her but thinks better of it.  “If I call out, you will be shown the door.  I have nothing to say to you.”

“That’s unfortunate, sir.  Because I really need to hear what you have to say.  About Emma Frost’s attempted murder.  The Brotherhood syndicate.  The Hellfire Club.  And Kurt Marko.”

Charles stares at her with wide eyes.  He swallows and hopes his nerves doesn’t show on his face.  One look into her eyes says he’s failed and she’s reading him like book.  But looks aren’t words, their evidence to anything. So, he lies anyway, “I’ve nothing to do with any of that.  Are you here to arrest me?”

“No,” she smiles, “But I’d like to help you, Charles.  It is Charles, isn’t it.”  She looks down at her clipboard and flips a page.  “Charles Marko, you’ve been very hard to track down.  But it’s possible.  My team was just flashing an old photo a four-year-kid with gentle blue eyes.  You are kind of hard to forget,” she smiles gently at him.

Charles blinks away tears coming to his eyes.  Everything keeps going from bad to worst.  He shudders out a breath, “Get. Out.”  He’s surprised he can speak at all, when he feels like his lungs are being ripped out of chest.  Moira watches his face and he tries and fails again to school it.

The agent gets up and pulls another card out of her pocket, “This time, I’m leaving this here.  And I’d like you call me when you feel better, Charles.  I’m not the bad guy here.  I’m just looking for answers.”  She leaves the card at the foot of the bed and takes up her clipboard before walking out the door. 

Angel looks back at Charles from her chair, “You good, Professor?”

Charles gives her a watery smile, “I don’t want to be disturbed again.  Unless its Erik, of course.  Can you keep everyone out?”

Angel gives him a warm smile, “The next doc with a needle gets a punch in the nuts.  Or tits.  Whatever they’re packing.”

Charles fakes a laugh, “Thank you.  Can you close the door until Erik gets back?”

She nods and gives him back his privacy.

The room would be quiet if it weren’t Charles’s heart beating so loud in his ears.

* * *

 

Erik returns with the promised goods.  A dinner plate for himself and an elaborate ‘get well’ basket for Charles.  “It’s all I could find down there,” he shrugs. 

Charles smiles, “I’m sure there was a vending machine somewhere.”

Erik makes a face, “I don’t carry small change.  You know that.”  Though he’s never explained his hate for quarters and dimes.  Charles happened by this strange quirk by accident one day.  He's regretted impulsively wanting a Kit-Kat bar ever since.  Another item for the Couples Counseling list.

Charles sighs and looks at the foot of his bed.  “Get that.”  No secrets, they promised.  And starting now, he plans on being more faithful.  If Erik is willing to forgive his transgressions, then surely, he can open up and tell the truth every now and then.

But Erik is slow to move, more interested in his plate of fake cheese and macaroni.  When he settled in his chair closer to the bed, he leans over and finally picks up the card with a frown, “When did this…”  He turns to the door, intent to punish Angel clear on his face.

“No!  Sit down.  We have to talk.”  Charles says, trying to get his husband’s anger problem leashed long enough to say his peace.  He explains about the first time the agent came to his apartment and how she just referred to him by his real name.  “I need your help, Erik.  I don’t know what she knows.  Why is she even looking for me?”

Erik pulls on his own hair.  “It’s me.  I’ve got you mixed into this.  I always knew they would investigate you too, but I didn’t think this kind of thing would turn up.  God… But don’t worry.  You’re not alone anymore.  I’ll put Warren and Raven on it.  They’ll sort her out.  And everything will be fine.”

Charles frowns, “You’re not going to kill her, are you?”

Erik makes a noncommittal noise, “What does that matter?”

“It matters!”  Charles feels impatient trying to explain, “She said she wanted to help me.  Both times.  And I can’t have her murder on my conscious…”

“Shh,” says Erik.  He sits up suddenly looking around the room.  He leans over and writes on the back of a get-well card. 

****

**_She probably bugged the room.  I’ll get Alex to check later.  Did she touch anything?_ **

 

Charles rolls his eyes, “I had my eyes on her the whole time.  She only left that little card and sat in your chair.”

Erik eyes his chair with suspicion as he rips the card in quarters.  “Fine, talk freely.”  He bends over to check the chair and Charles watches, admiring his husband’s ass while thinking, ‘ _this is your life, these are your choices_.’

“Knock, knock!”  Says Angel.  She bursts into with bouquet of flowers and handful of letters.  “Presents!”

Charles gives her a warm smile but Angel stops at the door to stare at Erik.  Charles rolls his eyes, “Ignore him, he lost all his loose change.  Come here, and let me see.”

She merely shrugs and smiles again, “Flowers from Ro’ and Gwen.” She pulls out the card, “Get well soon, you lil’ Ho.  Love, yo’ Ho Sister and Brothers.”  She laughs, “Gwen has the ugliest handwriting.  I’m not going to marry her for the penmanship that’s for sure.”

Charles laughs, “Yes keep your standards, darling.  Never settle, or else…” he looks back to where Erik is still on the floor.  He’s turned the chair over and is checking the cushions and legs.  Angel raises a brow but doesn’t ask.  Erik ignores them both to pull out a knife cut into the top of the cushion.  Angel clears her throat and turns back to Charles.

“So your mail here is… bills... bills… card.”  She shows him a card with a giant panda, “From the kids. Kitty says, ‘Get well soon.  We’ll keep a candle burning for you.”

“Not an actual candle, I hope,” says Erik.  “I don’t know why Old Nana wanted _that_ many children in _that_ house.  Your place is crawling with angsty, hormonal, teenagers.  And Alex says Kitty appointed herself head of security.  And decided to build a fort.  She’s cutting down trees on your land.  And building an actual _kiddie fort_ to protect you.”

“Oh, how enterprising,” grimaces Charles.  He sadly thinks of his favorite tree and hopes it fares well in the next siege.  “So, are the kids fine?  They made it up okay?”

“Yes of course.  And Magda is meeting with the trustee to settle the final costs.”

Charles feels a weight from his heart drop.  Even with all the bad luck and bad news.  “That is… that is wonderful, Erik.  I wish I could thank her and Mona… I wish.”

“Don’t upset yourself, Charles.”  Erik smiles at him from where he sits cross-legged on the floor.  A dismantled chair leg in his lap.  Charles wonders how he got the screws out.  Erik keeps smiling like there’s nothing odd about his position, “It’s over and done with now.  When you’re better, I’m taking you _home_.”

Charles has tears in his eyes but its Angel that’s crying.  She starts openly sobbing, pulling up the sheet on Charles’s feet to wipe her face and blow her nose.  “That was so sweet!  I’m so glad you two have finally got your shit together!”  She sobs again before dropping the sheet while Charles glares at her.  “Here, I got your mail too,” she says to Erik.  “Bills, bills… Bad Boy Kitty Obedience Toy Subscription?”  She looks at Charles and he hopes his face isn’t red.  Erik mumbles about renewing it for later.  Angel cringes but continues, “Bills, bills, lawsuit, bills, and oh!  Azazel’s medical bills.  That asshole.”

“What,” says Charles.

Erik gets up quickly and snatches the thing, he flips the three legged-chair over and sits down awkwardly on it without the damaged cushion while pocketing the letter.  “It’s nothing.”  The chair creaks as he tries to balance in against the wall.

“You said he was alive and well.”

“I did not.  I said he was _alive,_ not whole.  He touched you.  He hurt you, Charles.  He’s my best friend, but if you were a woman I know for fact he would have slept with you ages ago.  I had to make sure he paid for crossing me again.  Then we broke things off.  In a very professional manner.”  Angel looks she’s about to disagree but Erik clears his throat and gives her stern look in warning before he continues.  “Like I said.  He’s alive.”

Angel throws up her hand, “Issues again?  I’m not here for that.”  She leans over and kisses Charles on the cheek, “I’m being relieved of duty.  Alex will watch over you.  Charles Francis Xavier,” she smirks.  “Not everyone knows yet.  Just me and Darwin right now.  Your boy Remy wants to come up to see you today.  You’ll tell him, then right?”

Charles moves turns over his wrist and she takes his hand and gives it a squeeze.  He sighs, “Yes of course.  Maybe he’ll be more willing to share some secrets from his own colorful past.  You should have heard his voice years ago, he wanted to be the next Cajun Idol.” 

Angel gives him nod before getting up and walking to the door, “Take care you two.  Don’t find a way to fuck in that hospital bed.”  She looks seriously between them while wagging a finger, “Poor Hank.”  She finally leaves them alone and Erik gets up to fix the chair before settling down again.  The tear in the cushion is between his legs.  Erik looks down with a pinched face before deciding it be easier up with his legs crossed and hiding it.

“Did you find anything?”

“No… Doesn’t mean the room is not bugged now.”

“Well, do you mind if I risk speaking openly anyway?”

Erik crosses his arms, and leans back.  He looks scruffy, his wrinkled shirt rides up his middle and the envelope sticks out his front pocket of his jeans.  He’s cutest hobo Charles has ever seen.  Erik scrubs a hand through his lanky, unwashed hair, “I suppose it would be a little cumbersome at this point to switch rooms again.  It was already very trying for us to get this much space without windows.”

Charles smirks, thinking of when Erik was first shot.  “Hey.  Come here.”  And he grins, “And take off your shirt.”

Erik raises his brow.  He echoes Charles from before, “We can’t do anything.  You’ll die.”

Charles laughs and a twinge of pain radiates in his back, “Oh, you bastard.  Shut up and come here.”

Erik smiles but does he’s told, even stripping out of his t-shirt before sitting on the edge of the bed.  He doesn’t come too close, but leans on the edge of the bed.   “There, boss.  Is this satisfying.”

“Very.  Come here, I have a proposition for you.”

“I’m not that kind of girl.”

Charles laughs again, “Stop it.  It hurts to laugh, you idiot.”

Erik doesn’t look too sorry, “Okay.  What do you want now, Charles?  The world’s biggest diamond?  Rare tigers?  Whatever it is, you know I’m willing to get it for you.”  He leans over to kiss Charles gently on the lips.  “And that I’d do anything to make you happy.”

“I can make any wish and you’d make it come true… a family.  My house.  Loyal friends who I believe really love me.  Or at least like me more than they like you,” he smirks.  “You’ve already done so much for me.  And half the time, you were a complete ass, but I love you despite your many, many shortcomings.”

“I can still pinch you, you know.”

“And despite the many shortcomings, violent outbursts, and constant dick measuring, my fondness for you has only grown.  So, with that said, I’d like to ask you something.”

“What now, Charles?”

“Will you marry me?”

Erik frowns, “We’re already married.  With two weddings and an exhaustive honeymoon behind us.”

“Yes, but that was all… sort of sordid.  Simon Lehnsherr is not my name.  It’ll take time, won’t it?  For me to really be Charles again, but when I am… I’m asking.  Will you marry me, you villainous bastard?”

Erik looks Charles in the eye and nods slowly, “Yes.  Of course.”  A slow smile spreads across his face, “Yes.  I’d like nothing more.”  They smile at each other until Charles’s face hurts and Charles feels desperate to get up and move around, specifically throwing his arms around Erik’s neck.

But Nurse Doom is back and lectures them both.  Erik is temporarily kicked out.  Nurse doom tosses his shirt in his face before slamming the door on an infamous mobster.  Charles is cleaned and re-strapped.  Nurse Doom explains that the swelling has gone done significantly and he may be ready to move around in a week or two.  But they’d like to scan him again.  Charles is quiet and accepting.  At least he finally gets to leave the room.  It’s the first time he’s been conscious for a scan.

Nurse Doom leaves to get a gurney and Charles is left with the door open and the sight of poor Alex, half-sleeping on the job.

“Attention!”  Shouts Charles.  He just can’t help himself.

Alex almost falls out the chair, but he realizes.  “Oh, for fuck’s sake!  That is not funny, Princess!”

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone you’re snoozing on the job.”  He sticks his tongue out at Alex, being the more mature of the two of them.

Alex salutes him with a middle finger before taking the seat outside the door again.

Charles suffers through his exams and scanning with a pinched face.  The doctors and specialists poke at every inch of skin, inject him with things.  Draw blood and flash lights in his eyes.  He wishes he were sleeping through the gauntlet of procedures and tests.  But in the end, he’s left alone with Nurse Doom, but this time they’ve changed his bed.  No more straps and cushions.  He’s cautioned to remain as still as possible but the doctors tentatively give him the okay to leave in time for the funeral.

When Erik is allowed to return, he looks better.  Showered, shaved, combed and deadly again. 

Charles smirks from the bed, “Hello Nurse.”

Erik erupts in laughter, “Don’t.  We don’t have time for that.  And I’ll kill you, remember?”  He gives Charles a slow look up and down, reminding Charles of a certain night from the honeymoon.

“Am I being released?  Please tell me you got all pretty so they could let me go.”

Erik shrugs, “I just finished checking in with the crazed egghead myself.  I at least have a clean bill of health,” he grins with all his teeth.  “I’m free to go and do whatever I want.  But…”   He walks in the room and takes his usual seat, “I rather stay here.  You’re still grounded.  And this place is… safe.  Magda is on her way up with the trustee.”  He grins at Charles again, “Are your hands working?”

“We certainly don’t have time for that… oh wait.  What are you talking about?”  Charles frowns.  “The trustee?  My trustee?”

Erik nods, “She’ll be up in a sec.  With Warren and Magda.”

“Erik no!”  Charles’s good mood evaporates when he thinks of another surprise visitor.  There’s no way he could stand being in the same room with his husband and a former client.  He already feels vulnerable and exposed.  The thought makes his skin itch but he’s still trying to be still, else Nurse Doom will chastise him.

But Erik doesn’t see the discomfort warring under his husband’s skin.  He’s too busy being pleased with himself.   “I’ve already started moving operations.  We’re going to relocate to New York.  I’ve avoided it in the past, tradition for the Lehnsherr, Maximoffs, and Eisenhardts.  We do business here, but we live south for a reason.  New York is far too crowded.”

“Too many criminals?  Not enough room at the cool kids table?”

“Exactly.”

Charles sighs, “Then, I can’t wait to house all of you in my family home.”  It’s not the future his mother imagined for him.  But at least he has friends and someone to love.  The mood is thick with Serious Feelings and Serious Thoughts.  Charles tries inject some levity, “I should charge everyone rent.  And if you can’t pay, I’ll take it out of your ass.”  He grins, despite his own history.  “Let’s say rent is… due ever last Friday night.  You have to dress up sexy for it.  Bring your shark fin and cowboy hat.”

Erik rolls his eyes, “I’ll need all that in writing.”

Charles huffs out a tight laugh, “I don’t mind.  It’s exactly what I wanted to do… in a way.  Take my friends home and keep them safe.  We can hire tutors and refit the rooms like a dormitory. And I could…” He ducks his head and hopes his blushing, “Well they already call me Professor.  But I could really take some classes or something… like you said.  I’d have something to do.”  He smiles and offers his hand.  Erik squeezes it and Charles starts to laugh, “Raising our fifteen kids while you work on playing nice.”

Erik gives him a warm smile, but then his eyes looks away.  His face has ticks with whatever conflict is boiling under the surface.  He finally clears his throat, “Darwin thinks…”  He shakes his head and speaks louder, with more confidence.  “We all think that you should have a bigger hand in things.  Bringing you to the table, as it were.  I was only shutting you out before to protect you, but they… _we_ think this would be better.”  He nods at the end.  It certainly was not his idea and he still doesn’t agree with it, “Since keeping you in the dark didn’t protect you either.”

Charles pulls until Erik falls forward and gives him a little kiss on the lips.  Erik answers it with a small kiss to the corner of his mouth but backs to look down at his shoes.  Charles squeezes his hand, “Don’t be scared for me, darling.  I’m actually quite happy to hear that.  Being in the dark… you know I’ve never liked being sent to the kids table while you did business.  This is good.  I want to be more involved.  And as Mona said, she wants you to be more in the light.  And I want to help with that.  Not just for you but for your family.  Your nieces and nephews.  Maybe…”  He grins and shakes his head, “Maybe our own kids someday.”

Erik makes a face, “Besides Ro’s orphans?  I despise children and babies.  You know that.” 

Charles laughs, knowing that’s a lie.  Erik would probably make a wonderful father someday.  He’s probably saying so more for Charles, thinking his husband is too young to raise kids.  “Well, we can talk about it later.  I’m tired.  But at least I’m out of here soon.”  Perhaps having Gabrielle in the same room with Erik will help him learn how to handle things in the future.  No doubt, he might come across other clients in the future and he must learn to keep his head and not betray any discomfort.  He considers telling Erik about it but the door opens and it’s too late.

Magda breezes in, tall and beautiful like her cousin.  She’s toting her new baby girl, Anya and they’re both wearing all black.  Anya lights up when she sees Erik and Charles can’t help smiling as his husband pretends to reluctantly takes the baby, tickles her and hands her back.  “I’m not falling for that.  She just wants to vomit on my new suit.”

They’re all laughing when Gabrielle walks in, armed with a briefcase and a well-tailored power suit.  Charles swallows his apprehension but smiles, “Ms. Haller.  What a pleasure it is to see you again.”

She gives Charles a sad look, “I’m glad to see you too, Mr. Lehnsherr.  Though I’m deeply saddened by the circumstances.  I can’t believe you were attacked in your own home…”  She gives him a tight smile, “But at least you’re recovering.  And I’m so very sorry for your lost.  Ms. Mona was an extraordinary woman.”  She moves to a little table and opens her briefcase, “She left some amendments to our paperwork, citing you as one of her heirs.  If you can sign this, please.”

Charles signs the name ‘Simon Lehnsherr’ quickly, not thinking how if he’d known who she was years ago, he wouldn’t be here.  Perhaps he would have made it home earlier, with Remy and no ties to the Brotherhood syndicate.  He could be signing his own name.  He keeps his eyes on the paper for a long time, staring at the lie of Simon Lehnsherr before handing it over, “Thank you.”

Erik stays by his side while Gabrielle and Magda talk and coo at the baby.  Gabrielle laughs and tickles under her chin, “They’re great at this point.  Not running and knocking things over for the hell of it.  My baby boy is a little demon sometimes,” she gives Charles a slow smile and he feels his face lighting up.  “But I wouldn’t trade him for anything.  He’s my own little blue-eyed prince.”  She gives Anya a little kiss to the head before shaking hands and saying a quick goodbye.  She leaves and takes all the air in the room with her.

“Charles,” says Erik.  “What’s wrong?  You’ve gone pale?”

Charles looks up at his husband with wide eyes, a little terrified.  “What is my life?”

Erik looks down at him quizzically, obviously about to question him, but Warren saves him.  “So, we need to get going. Ms. Anya has places to be after all.  We mustn’t hold up her busy schedule.” 

The baby makes a high-pitched noise as if to agree so Magda shrugs, “I’ll see you guys again at the funeral.”  She kisses them both on the cheek, “Take care of each other.  And behave yourself, Erik.”  She walks out with the baby on her hip and Warren following her close from behind.

Erik laughs when they’re gone, “He’s had crush on her since we were children.  And he still hasn’t told her.  It’s like he likes waiting for her husbands and boyfriends to die off, just standing to the side…  Charles, are you alright.  You really do look pale.”

“Fine,” squeaks Charles.  “Everything is going to be fine.  We’ll make it through this won’t we.  Can I see Remy?”  He rather spill that truth out the way before he even comes close to thinking about Gabrielle.  Or her son.  And anything else he’d have to explain to Erik.  Erik rolls his eyes but agrees.

* * *

 

Remy comes in with two gift baskets.  He hauls everything over to the Erik’s chair and stares until the man gets up, “That’s right.  You get up out here.  Let me have some time with my little brother without crosshairs pointing at us.”

Erik rolls his eyes, “I’ll be outside.”

“No one cares,” says Remy with a wave of his hand.

Charles chuckles, “I care.  Thank you, darling.  Lots of love.”  He blows a kiss just to aggravate Erik. 

It works.  Erik sighs and rolls his eyes again, walking out while mumbling under his breath.

Remy spreads out in the chair, puts his feet up on edge of the bed, and a basket in his lap.  He opens up candy and starts eating it two pieces at a time.  With a mouth full, he moans and dramatically spasms in the chair.  “Oh yes.  This is the good stuff!  These are from me and Logan.  I can’t tell you how worried I’ve been, but he helped take my mind off of things, if you know what I mean.”

“I know what you mean.”

“I means sex.  Lots of sex.  Fantastic, mind-blowing, wall-shaking…”

“Yes, I know,” laughs Charles.  “You’re okay then?  You didn’t get hurt in the attack?”

Remy plops another piece of candy in his mouth and Charles studies him.  He’s trying hard to look unfazed, relaxed.  But as he peels free the wrapper, his eyes center on Charles’s middle, likely thinking of his back.  Remy chews with his mouth open, “I’m fine.  I’m glad your short ass is in one piece.  That crazy old woman was…” he smiles, “She was something.  She kept me safe.  And when they brought you down to the bunker, she kept me calm and held my hand.  Fuck I thought you were dead.  We had to wait forever for the fighting to stop before it was safe to get you here.”  He keeps his eyes on the basket, eyes turning wet and glossy while digging through candy and tiny soaps and whatever else is in the basket.  “Your boy made one hell of a mess.  Just bawling like a baby before he grabbed one the doc’s scalpels and ran out like a madman.”

Charles can easily imagine it.  Erik never hesitates to get his hands dirty.  But none of this answers his question, “Are you really okay?” The last thing he wants is to be the thing that triggers Remy.  He doubts a man like Logan would let his friend relapse but Remy scratches an itch on his forearm, looks down and balls his hand into fist.  He slams it before looking up again.  Charles pretends he didn’t notice anything and smiles, “I was worried when you weren’t here.”

Remy gives him a lopsided grin and appears earnest as he answers, “I’m fine now I know you’re fine.  Or at least you gonna be.  You can wiggle your toes and all that?”  Charles grins as demonstrates.  Remy whistles, “Miraculous.  But I’m a little sad thinking we’re going miss out on learning about wheelchair sex.”

Charles laughs, “Well there’s always tomorrow.”

They both dissolve into a fit of inappropriate giggles.

Charles sighs and rests his hands on his belly.  He levels his friend with the most serious look he can muster, “We have to talk.”

Remy answers him with a belch, then folds over, pounding his own chest.  He coughs, “Shit, I think I ate too fast.”

“I’m serious.”

“I’m choking!”

“Remy…”

“Call a doctor… wait we’re in a hospital.”

“Calm down.  I’m trying to tell you something.”

Remy sobers up, “I know.”  He bows his head, looking ashamed and anxious.  “I know.  Just spit it out.  You don’t got dance around letting me go, you know.  I’m a big boy, Jigglypuff.”

Charles frowns at his friend, “What on earth are you on about?”

Remy rubs his shoulder, “You’re Simon Lehnsherr now.  Momma Gotti said so.  You’ll have all that work to do.  Your dream house to take care of.  All those little brats.  There’s no room for a washed-up, truck-stop hooker.”

Charles gives him a tired smile, sad that there’s any doubt about their friendship.  Sad that’s it’s all his own fault for holding Remy at arm’s length for years.  “There more than enough room, and I for one would love for you and Logan to have the two-story groundskeeper cottage, and all the mind-blowing, wall-shaking sex you can manage out of earshot of those impressionable young minds.  We need you Remy.”

Remy shrugs, “But I… can’t take Johns up to that fancy house… It’s not like Ro’s.”

“No it’s not.  But it does need an executive chef.  And you my friend, more than qualify.” Remy preens with the compliment.  “I’m sorry things got so bad.  But would you like to try it again?  Going legit with me?  I promise no more blowjobs, or cutting or hooking.  No more stealing.  Let me repay you for everything you did raising me.  I owe you.”

Remy wipes his eyes, then shrugs like it’s not a big deal.  “With interest.  Don’t think I didn’t keep receipts.”

Charles pats the bed like he did for Erik.  “Come here, I have something else to tell you.”

Remy kicks of his shoes and makes a show of getting into the bed carefully before sitting on the edge.  “You’re pregnant.”

“Shut up,” laughs Charles.  “I just told Erik…  Don’t make me laugh, its hurts.  Okay.”  Remy nods so Charles clears his throat and continues.  “Remy.  I love you. You are my family.  I lost sight of what was important for a little while, but now…  I see I could have had so much if I only thought to ask for help.  So many missed opportunities…”

Remy takes him by the hand and kisses him, “Don’t sweat it, Charles.  We came up even in the end, right?”

Charles sighs, feeling comforted.  His chest hurts with the weight of the words in the his caught in his throat, so finally does it.  He admits everything.  “I am Charles Frances Xavier.  The son of Sharon and Brian Xavier.  That house that Mona bought is the home I grew up in.  the Trustee just signed over my inheritance and Erik’s family _paid_ for it.  I… I ran away from my stepfather.  He was using me and selling me so I ran away… Oh.  And Raven’s my stepmother.  I thought she was dead, but she’s actually the assassin that was hired to kill him.  The night I ran away.  And don’t tell Erik but I think I might be a dad.”  He stops and gives Remy a cautious smile.  “That was a lot of what-if’s, huh?”

Remy stares blankly at Charles for long time.

A very long time.

Nurse doom returns and starts fussing over the bed, Charles shakes Remy’s hand but gets no response, “Could you go get a doctor.  I think my friend is in shock.”

Before Nurse Doom or Charles can call out, Remy yanks away blinking away tears in his eyes.  He suddenly laughs and the outburst scares Charles and Nurse Doom.  Remy stands up laughing hard enough to shake and holding his sides.  He’s all teeth and ugly snorting before he sits down in the chair and sighs.  “Only you, kid!”

* * *

 

Nurse Doom had insisted on giving Charles another exam after Remy came down.  Remy flirted with the man, badly, and scared him off.  It was far more effective than any of Erik’s attempts intimidation.

After spilling the truth, Charles started talking and talking and it seemed like he couldn’t stop.  After every admission, he would look up expectantly at his friend.  Remy just laid beside him, holding hands and offering a warm smile.

Until Charles recounted his experience with the john that kidnapped him, locking him in a trunk. 

Remy wipes his face, “That’s enough, Jigglypuff.  I remember this story.  Its where we met right?  You used to cry in your sleep.  Cry in the dark.  Cry in the car.  I remember.”  He squeezes Charles’s hand.  “And you don’t owe me anything, you know for looking after you.  I didn’t… I didn’t have any direction until I met you.  I was just taking care of my own skin and doing a sod job at that.  At least you gave some purpose, you know.”  He leans over to kiss Charles on the forehead, “And I love you more than you’ll ever know, kitten.”

Charles bites his lip, “I just don’t want to keep things from you, anymore.”

Remy’s jaw gets tight.  He looks away and gives Charles another squeeze.  “What are you fishing for, squirt?  There’s nothing in my bone closet to go through.  I couldn’t make up a life half as interesting as that shit if I tried.  And I’m not pregnant with no man/man baby, neither.”

That startles a laugh out of Charles, “You’re an idiot…” he looks up at his friend with wide eyes, “but don’t tell Erik.”

Remy rolls his eyes, “For the love of god…”

“Promise!  It’s not like the other stuff.  I will tell him carefully.  He does have some legitimate anger management issues.  Look at the poor chair.”

Remy raises a brow, “I’m not even touching this.  You two fools are just drama incarnate.”

 

* * *

 

Charles spends the next two days trying to exercise and demonstrate his mobility to earn Hank’s permission to leave.  Hank gives him a reluctant okay to go to the funeral, so long as he retires for bedrest right after.  By early Thursday morning, Charles is dressed like a doll in a fine black suit and saying farewell to the room and staff.

Hank hovers around nervously while he directs.  “You’re not doing yourself any favors.  You can’t heal like this.”  He sets up the wheelchair while sighing deeply. Two hospital nurses and his assistant block Erik out the door.

Charles smiles and wiggles his toes, “I’m ready.  Just move me already.  Before I get any more sores on my ass!”

“What happened to his ass!?” 

“Shut up, Erik.”  Charles grins and waves a hand for doctors and nurses to come over.

They lift him carefully and seat him upright in the chair while Nurse Doom quickly straps him down and limits his movement.  Charles is admiring the dark blue ‘x’ harness, as it cuts across his chest, when Hank makes another worried sound, “Anna Marie and I will come to the funeral.  We’ll pay our respects and keep an eye on your condition.”  He smiles gently at Charles before standing up, “I don’t want Ms. Mona haunting me.”  His face cracks in a rare grin, and he pushes up his glasses, “I miss her, terribly.  But I’ve been dreaming she’s poking me with her insulin and telling me it’s time to get married.”

Charles watches as the nurse called Anna Marie bites her lip and blushes while Hank turns an impressive shade of red.

“Ah.”  He says to no one.  They finally let Erik in the room, and his husbands elects to just stand there and stare.  Charles frowns at him, “What’s wrong?”  He looks down at where he’s strapped in, his feet secured.  A line of IV still pairs him with a fat bag of clear fluid.  And another line caths him to a bag discreetly tucked under the chair.  He clears his throat feeling embarrassed.  “Well at least you never had to change my diaper.”

Erik’s face change and he bends to one knee at Charles’s side.  “I was just thinking how good you look in the suit.  And how much I can’t wait to get you home.”  He kisses Charles on the hand, “I’ll take care of you.”

Charles puts a hand across his chest while Annie Marie and another female nurse makes ‘aw’ noises.  Nurse Doom subtly rubs his eyes before turning away.  But Hank yawns as if whole thing is boring him, “Lets go.  I don’t want him up for too long.  The pain is only bearable because he’s been still.  I don’t want to grow dependent on the drugs when he’s better.  You two can have a hallmark moment later,” He steps out of the room and Charles’s jaw drops a little.

Erik grins instead of yelling, “Look who’s finally grown a pair.”  He winks at Charles and moves to walk beside him while Anna Marie pushes him to the elevator.

* * *

 

The funeral is expectedly somber.  Men and women cry openly.  Guests offer support to the family.  A man hands out small hats and Erik gently explains the custom of wearing a kippah while pinning one on Charles’s head.  Erik himself is dressed in a simple black suit, he carries his grandmother’s cane instead of his own.  He may have preferred a secular wedding for Charles’s sake but he and Magda observe their faith in a way Charles hasn’t witnessed before.   Charles hopes he’s being respectful.  And he appreciates that he’s not the only one out of the loop.  Raven looks distraught as one Erik’s aunts bawl on her shoulder and Warren keeps a comforting arm around Magda.

Charles listens carefully to the words spoken after Old Nana is laid to rest and holds on tight to Erik throughout the ceremony.

Alex, Darwin, and their trusted men circle the perimeter.  Erik keeps talking and explaining things, adjusting Charles’s clothes or looking out at his men.  He keeps his eyes off the hole in the ground.  He doesn’t join his relatives who wail and beat their chest.  Charles has only been to one funeral in his life, but he remembers how broken he felt when his mother died.  He didn’t make a scene for fear of Kurt, but he wanted cry out.  He wouldn’t deny Erik that now.  “Go on.  It’s okay to grieve, Erik.”  He reaches up and squeezes the back of his husband’s neck.  “It’s okay to cry.”

Erik starts to shake his head no, but his shoulders and whole body follows.  He’s shaking and rocking in place and Charles wishes more than anything he could get up and hold him.  He’s thankful to at least be there.  Erik leans down and hides his face in Charles’s chest while he cries.  He lets out low, wailing sound that breaks Charles’s heart.

* * *

 

Shiva starts and Erik attacks another chair before angrily sitting on the floor outside of Charles’s room.  The solemn procession moved back to the mansion, and while the mourners are grieving in his childhood home, Charles has to tolerate Hank and Anna Maria setting up his room.  Charles gives Hank permission to move into the room across the hall and he tries to stay strong for Erik, but the exertion and medicine catches up to him.

Charles sleeps fitfully in his own room, plagued by drugged induced nightmares.  He sees Kurt, Schmidt, Gregorivich, and the worst Johns he ever had.  He sees himself sleeping in alleyways and fighting off faceless men.  He dreams of being trapped and tied down.  Of being locked out of the house, unable to move or call for help.  He sees Erik as an angry, hateful, monster.  And Remy dead in a gutter.   

Charles wakes up to the sight of Logan and forgets almost everything from his hellish nightmares.  The big man stands at the foot of his bed, armed with a shotgun and staring at the door.  It doesn’t add up, thinks Charles.  He tries to speak, but the man quickly raises a finger to his own lips.  Charles frowns at the gesture and looks at the door, wondering what threat could be behind it now.

After a long stretch of silence, the door opens and Remy barges in, nearly missing a shot to the face.

“Mon petite!”

Logon rolls his eyes, “I could have blasted you, gumbo boy.”

Remy rolls his shoulders, “Maybe later,” he smirks and sticks out his tongue.

Charles looks between them, confused and annoyed.  “What,” he croaks.  “In the hell are you two doing?”

Remy rushes over to pour him some water, “You’re awake!”

Charles holds his head while he takes in the scene.  “What’s going on?  Where’s Erik?”

Remy’s face drops, “He’s busy…”

Charles narrows his eyes and stares between them both.  Logon shuffles his feet, uncharacteristically and Remy tries to exit the room without explaining, “Remy?”

Remy backs out the door, “I’ll just let him know you’re up.  That’ll cheer him up.”  He grins and runs out of the room.

Logan puts his gun down on the bed and takes out a cigar.  He considers the room before deciding to chomp on it without lighting, then picks up his gun again.  He takes up the same posture from before and Charles wants to scream. 

“What is the fuck is going on!”

“Calm down, bub.”  He says easily, despite his posture, “We’ve just got some funny company in the house.”

“Who?”

“Emma Frost and Selene Gallio.”

 

 

 


	14. What a Tangled Web We Weave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Charles sees a lot of himself in the enemy and makes another mistake. Because he’s Charles.

“No.”

“Calm down, bud.”

“No!  Get that… that cat-eyed trollop out of my house!”

_“Cat-eyed?”_

“Shut up and go do as I say!  Bring Erik here!  I want to see him!”

“Stop shouting, you’ll hurt something.”

“I don’t care!  How could you-- how could any of you let them in here.  After everything!”

“They came in waving a white flag, while the mourners were still here.  Erik had them taken down to the bunker.  Me being up here is just a precaution.”  He gives Charles a fake smile, “See?  We have the home advantage this time.”

“We had it last time and I was almost killed.  I want Erik.  Bring him here, now.”

“Sheesh.”  Logan shrugs, “You’re not exactly my boss, shorty.  I can’t just do like you say. Just try and trust him, okay.  Trust that old Sharkface knows what he’s doing and trust us to keep you safe.”  He leans and pats Charles on the foot.  “It’s not like you can go running after him and stir shit up.”  He smirks as he takes up his post again.

Well, fuck that, thinks Charles.  He leans over as much as he can, grabs the water pitcher and smashes it across the dresser.

“Hey!”

“Hey, shit!”  Charles brandishes the broken thing, it looks awkward and not very deadly.  He starts to cry while holding it up, “Bring him here, or take me to him.  Or else.”

Logan rolls his eyes, “I can stay out of reach, you know.”  He takes a big step back to make his point.

“Yes of course,” says Charles before quickly sitting the sharp glass against his own jugular, to make his point.  “You’re very far away.”

The cigar falls out of Logan’s lips.  “Well fuck.  That is not fair.  You’re a dirty little-“

“TAKE ME TO ERIK!”

“Fine!” growls Logan.  He puts his shot gun down and moves to get the wheelchair.  “Fine.  But I’m not getting chewed out for this.  If anybody asks, you hit me.  Hard.”

* * *

 

The house is eerily quiet.  Charles thought it would still be full of people.  He expects Hank to come running from across the hall, but nothing.  He recognizes a few of Darwin’s men in the halls, but they let Logan pass without a word.  At the elevator, they bump into Anna Marie as she runs out, hands full of bandages and blood on her smock.  She looks unsurprised to see Charles up and about.  She nods at Logan and lets them pass while running back down to Hank’s room.

“What’s going on?”

“I don’t know.  But maybe they’re expecting your stubborn ass.”  He puts a heavy hand on Charles’s shoulder.  “Sit back and stop squirming.”

“Fine.  Just hurry.  I have a terrible feeling.”

They’re quiet all the way down to lowest floor.  Charles doesn’t know what to expect.  He just wants to be at Erik’s side.  Like he promised.  The doors open and Logan pushes him into the infirmary, and the oddest sight he’s ever seen. Hank is cutting into a man laid out in the center of the room.  Erik, Darwin, and Remy are seated to one side while Emma and what could only be the cat-eyed trollop sit on the other side.  Alex is closer to the door, he nods at them like the guards upstairs did and Logan wheels Charles over to Erik’s side.  “What is this?”

“Hello sugar,” says Emma.  “My what cute jim-jams.”  She smirks, she’s dressed in white while the woman next to her is dressed in black.  Charles can tell she’s covered in some heavy makeup and wonders what she’s hiding under all the powder and oversized sunglasses.  The cut of her dress draws you away from her face straight to her glorious breasts.  Charles is reminded of his first impression of her at the wedding.  When she claimed to be trustworthy _after_ her people took Ororo.  Otherwise, she looks well, considering the news of her accident and coma.  “I don’t believe you’ve met my esteemed associate, Ms. Gallio.”  She pats the dark-haired woman on the leg, “But she’s heard a lot about you.”

Selene looks like she survived worse than a car accident.  Her face is crisscrossed in scars and her nose is sporting a large bandage.  She’s thin and frail looking. Like she’s been fighting and losing all her life.  Charles would feel sorry for her if it weren’t for the bullet in his back.

“What is this,” repeats Charles.  He looks at the man lying face down.  It takes a moment to recognizes the gaunt form, lying prone in middle of a room full of known sadists.  “Schmidt?” 

Erik pats Charles on the knee.  “We’re negotiating new terms.  I had hoped you’d sleep through this.”

“I couldn’t sleep… what in god’s name are you doing, Hank?”

Hank keeps cutting into the man’s skin and without looking back at Charles answers, “My job, sir.”

Charles shakes his head.  He hates the idea of the gentle doctor becoming a murderer, “Stop this,” he says to Erik.  “Don’t do this to Hank.  Any one of your boys can put a bullet in his head.  Hell, _I’ll_ do it.  But don’t do this to poor hank.”

Hank stops what’s he doing long enough to switch blades, “He’s not making me do anything.  I volunteered.”

Erik sighs, “More like he was commissioned.”  He gives Selene a dirty look, “Our old friends here came baring gifts.  An apology, a new trade agreement, the head of Janos, and body of Schmidt.”

“Head and body?”  Charles looks around the room expecting to see a well-dressed decapitated corpse somewhere. 

Erik pats him on the leg, “A bounty for Janos.  It seems he betrayed them all.  He did make a grab for power, just like we thought he would.  I’m surprised he escaped with his life.”  He gives Selene a fake smile, “After all, he ruined all the hard work you’ve put into maintaining your _extra_ -ordinary beauty.”

Selene looks down at her hands and Charles eyes follow.  Her left hand is missing three fingers and there’s burn scar tissue on her palm.  She fidgets with her hands while Erik gives her a mean sneer.  Emma reaches out and stills her, covering her hands with her own.  Charles can guess how she came to this state and it makes his stomach turn.  Gaining new knowledge of Erik’s potential for cruelty always makes him sick.  He looks away from the women but they continue.

Emma explains, “We need this jackass to keep breathing.  At least a little while longer.”  She sits up higher and leans forward to look Charles in the eye, “And we couldn’t have you thinking we had anything to with the attack on your lovely home.  We want to be friends, Simon. Don’t you think the world is a better place with friends in it.  We appreciate you getting rid of that snake, Azazel.  He was a thief.” 

Selene brushes the hair out of her face, the thin scars stretches from her lips to her ear.  “He was a liar and a brute.  And the new world doesn’t have any place for that kind of man and their antiquated posturing.  We understand you rather turn legitimate.  We’re willing to take up your mantel and help push things in a better direction back home.”

Erik leans over Charles, eyeing how his husband is shaking but continues, “They claim that’s why they were interested in Ororo and the way she handles business.  She keeps her employees and clients healthy and clean.”

“And some people pay top-dollar for someone healthy,” says Charles automatically.  A part of him screaming, ‘This _is not the time for jokes.’_  But he looks at Erik and gives him a watery smile.

“Oh, you know it.”  Erik grins easily, and they share a little nod to their past.  Charles looks at Selene from the corner of his eyes and thinks of what could have happened if Erik thought _he_ deserved to be punish.  What’s a little stabbing or public humiliation, when he could have been… whatever she was.  Hank takes up his scalpel again and Erik mimes Emma’s posture, covering Charles’s hands with his own and giving him a smile.

The body on the table groans and every else goes quiet, anticipating the inane chatter and posturing that inevitability flows from Sebastian Schmidt when he’s conscious.

Hank chuckles to himself when he notices their unease.  “Don’t worry about him.  He’s not going to wake up from this, but he’s not going to die.  He’ll live just long enough for the lovely sirens here to do whatever they want to him.”

“Yes,” says Emma, “I should have guessed Essex’s partner had a mean streak.”

The women sit and laugh while watching the operation and Erik sits there quietly, holding Charles by the hand.  At the end of it, Hank motions for Alex and Darwin to help move the body.  Charles gets an eyeful of Sebastian’s body.  His skin is thin, his coloring is almost green and yellow.  His legs are two bony points that are easily laid flat in a gurney.  And where his cock and balls used to be there’s a wide swath of blood-soaked bandages.  Charles can’t look away, feeling real pity for the man.  A little tendril of fear keeps him from looking down at himself, at the harness holding him still and his own unmoving legs.  When Schmidt is turned on his side and strapped up by Hank, the women finally stand and Erik follows suit.  He moves behind Charles and leads them all to the elevator.

Charles is at a loss for words.  And a million questions fly around in his frightened skull.  He looks up at Erik, but a twinge of pain scares him from moving any further.  Erik gently pats his shoulder, “It’s okay, Freckles.  We just made a deal to get him out of our lives.  He’s not our problem anymore.”

Charles looks up at Emma and Selene who share their corner of the elevator with clasped hands.  He can’t imagine what Selene went through, or is probably still going through, but there’s other facts to consider.  She’s a human trafficker.  She’s a murderer.  She’s traitor to Erik and his family. Charles turns his eyes away from her frail body and hisses, “And I’m to believe neither of them had anything to do with the attack on the house?  After everything...”

Selene laughs and hides her face with her hand, ducking her head like a school girl.  “Hardly.  We came here and admitted everything.  I am indeed the one ordered the hit on Erik way back when, but then, it wasn’t part of this.  I was just mad after hearing he’d taken up with some sweet little thing.  I was a little emotional.”  She pouts at Charles, “I should warn you, honey.  I know how hot and cold he gets.  You don’t want to end up a collection of scars, do you?”

“Shut up,” spits Erik.  “I didn’t do this to him.”

“No. I did,” she smiles and Erik almost launches himself across the elevator, but Charles raises his hand.  Erik stops at the sight, and just as the door opens the women walk out first.  Selene looks down at Charles in the chair, “My goodness.  How on earth did you manage to tame him?”

“I didn’t,” he says delibrately.  Charles looks up at the woman as she hangs over Emma’s arm.  “But I’m not scared of him,” he lies.  He hates to think it, but there’s a part of him that is terrified, and rightly so.

Emma rolls her eyes. 

Erik pats his shoulder again as he leads Charles to the office.

Charles is surprised that Erik wheels him to the side of the room and sits with him on a low couch while Darwin takes up his chair and the women sit in front.

Erik keeps going back to Charles’s hand.  His thumb rubs the ring while he sits rigidly watching his second-in-command hammer out details.  Charles thinks of all the ways his life has already gone upside down, and how much worst it would have been if his beloved husband had ever…

Selene looks and stares at him at odd times, the scars on her face stretching as she frowns or sneers.  Charles ducks his head and waits for it all to be over.

* * *

 

The women are escorted out of the house and Charles is taken back to his room.  He’s quiet the whole way and Erik hums a little melody until they get there.  Hank waits at the door and helps Erik get Charles ready for bed, washing him off, changing his clothes, helping him up on and off the toilet.  Erik must have sensed his embarrassment, and after Hank left them alone, he laughed.  “Till we grow and old and change each other’s diapers.  Or something, right?”  He kissed the top of his head and helped Charles settle in the middle of the bed.  “Tit for tat.  Are we even now?”

Charles recovers himself enough to be petty, “I dealt with your poor health for way longer than a day.”

“You avoided me the whole time.”

Charles shrugs, “No.  Just when you were being a prick.  It’s not my fault that’s your default setting.”

Erik leans forward and snaps his teeth with a little bark.  It startles a laugh out of Charles.  “Are you scared of me?”  He says with a wide smile.  But his eyes are watching Charles carefully.

Charles looks away thinking of how tonight went down, “You once held a gun to my head and I knew for certain I was going to die in an alley.  You’ve cast me out of your good graces before… I can only imagine what you’re capable of… if you were ever really…”

“No!”  Erik grabs Charles by the shoulders.  “I would never in a million years, in any lifetime ever cause you harm.  Not on purpose.  Not like that.”

“Is that what you told her before she cheated on you?”

Erik shakes his head, “I was a kid.  I was stupid.  I was angry and vulnerable.  I’m not the same person and you are nothing like Selene.  You are my family, and you’ve never… would never try to hurt my family.”  His eyes shine with unshed tears but he continues, “It’s not just excuses.  I did a horrible thing to… someone I once thought I cared deeply for and I can say I love you until I’m blue in the face.  But understand, I don’t… I have never felt for anyone the way I feel for you.  I’ve never allowed it.  And I never will again.”

Charles isn’t sure if finds any of that comforting and says much quietly, “…bullshit.  I want to believe you, and I think you believe yourself, but honestly…”

Erik rolls his eyes before leaning forward enough to bump heads with Charles.  “I hate how distrusting you are.  But I promised we’d try to do better, didn’t I?”

“A counselor,” Charles would roll his eyes but he settles tightening his jaw and sitting up.  Erik’s poor argument for trust makes him feel a little superior.  “A counselor is supposed to help us work around your homicidal tendencies.  And my distrust of said tendencies.”

“That’s not fair!  All our problems aren’t just _my_ problems.  Remember, I thought we were officially going steady and you were still taking men and women on the side, hm? And well, stop moping,” Erik throws up his hands before putting a fake smile, “And in the morning perhaps, we’ll start taking proper steps towards being a healthy, normal couple.  How’s that sound?”

“…bullsh—“

Erik covers Charles mouth with his hand to silence him.  He pulls it away slowly and kisses Charles at the corner of his mouth, once, twice.  At the third peck Charles turns his head to meet him and they share a slow, chaste kiss.  Charles hums, “I’ve told you before not try and shut me up like that.  It makes things ten time worst.  I. Am. Not. A. Child.”

“I’ll remember.  We can argue in the morning.”  He leans in to peck Charles again, but Charles moves. 

Erik sighs.  “Things are going to be fine.  I want to believe that.  I think Old Nan is watching over us.  Don’t you think?”  He gives Charles a wide smile, “Hey, I know.  When was the last time I spoiled you?   Ask me for something crazy.”

“A pony.”

“I _hate_ horses.”

“Two ponies.”

Erik chuckles while he gets off the bed, “Do you think poor Hank or Nurse Doom would mind if I stay in here tonight?”

Charles looks his husband up and down.  He’s a bundle of nerves, anticipation, anger and regret.  And now he’s pissed that Erik would try to sweep all his feelings under the rug again.  He pouts, but in a decidedly grown-up manner and Erik raises a brow before slowly stripping away his tie and belt, then toeing off his shoes.  He leans over on the bed and his finely defined arms look good enough to drool over.  Charles bites his bottom lip, “Well, as long as you’re careful and stay on your side, of course.  You can’t jostle me, you understand.”

Erik smirks at him, like he can read all the dirty thoughts sitting in the forefront of Charles’s mind.  “Not jostling.  I’ll be gentle.”

“No,” starts Charles.  But Erik unzips his pants and Charles has to bite his lip again.  He may be hurt but, it seems his cock can still take an interest.  Or maybe the drugs in his system are wearing off.  He covers his lap while Erik strips out of his pants and shirt and climbs into bed and lays down beside him.  Charles clears his throat, “You didn’t turn out the light.”

“I don’t want to,” says Erik as moves to kiss Charles again on the cheek.  Then the neck.  He keeps himself twisted as he focuses on Charles’s body.

Charles wills himself to be even more still.  It reminds him of their honeymoon, and being tied down at Erik’s mercy.  Taking anything and everything in what was almost violent lovemaking.  The fact that he has gone from righteous anger to horny again makes him want to kick his own his ass.  He sighs and rolls his face away, but Erik just moves down, unbuttoning the top of Charles’s pajama top and kissing just under his clavicle.

There’s no biting or hair pulling.  Erik’s not going to throw him on the floor and fuck his brains out, this time.  But there’s still something thrilling to it.  All the little touches as Erik dances his fingers across Charles’s neck.  Then moves down to the last button his top.  And the first brush of his skin below his navel has Charles panting.  He looks up at Erik with half-lidded eyes, “Oh… for fuck’s sake.”

“You’ve grown very sensitive, Mr. Lehnsherr.”

“Shut up, Erik.”  Charles wants to say something more but he moans when Erik’s fingers brushes a nipple.  A pinch has his cock hard and jutting upright in his bottoms.   Charles closes his eyes, and tries harder not to move with each touch.  Especially when Erik starts sucking his neck.  “Fuck, fuck…”

“Are you okay?”

Charles opens one eye to look at his husband, “What do you think?”

Erik laughs before biting Charles’s bottom lip.  His hands go back to the soft caresses and brushes.  Without warning, they move down to Charles’s lap.

Charles almost jumps at the contact but Erik lays his left hand on his shoulder and holds him down gently. 

“Stay calm, Freckles.  Let me do all the work.”  He grins before kissing Charles deeply.  His fingers teases Charles’s cock as they brush back and forth against the clothed head.  Charles wants to hitch his hips, but struggles to stay still.  He’s rewarded when Erik pulls his clothes down and takes him in hand.  Erik shifts beside him, his own cock more apparent in his boxer briefs.  Charles hardly thinks as he reaches in and grabs hold of it.  Erik closes his eyes for a moment, “Oh god, I’ve missed you.”

It’s Charles’s turn to grin, “Are you talking to me or my hand?”

“Both,” says Erik with a laugh.  He keeps his touch on Charles light, rubbing circles around the head and slit on every upstroke.  Charles mimics him and they lean on each other while getting closer and closer to the edge.  Charles comes first, and Erik holds him gently through the spasms.  Charles tries to speed up his hand but Erik stops him.  He climbs up and straddles Charles legs and leans down to kiss him.  He presents his neck and Charles reaches out, holding Erik’s shoulder while he sucks and laps happily at the junction between ear and neck.  He keeps it up while Erik strokes himself and pants in his ear.  “Fuck, yes.  Charles…”  He comes across Charles lap and chest with a little desperate sounding cry.

Erik sighs when it’s over and falls over dramatically.

Charles groans when the weight on his legs gets uncomfortable, “Get your ass up and clean up this mess!”  He swats Erik on the thigh and the man finally rolls over.  Careful not to move Charles anymore.  Charles watches him as he walks, gap-legged to the bathroom.  He smiles at the sight, but when it’s over all the dread and anxiety threaten to crash down him again.  Before his brain can kick into all the reasons this won’t last, Erik starts singing.  Badly.

“Two little boys…”

Charles rolls his eyes and sighs while his eyes close with little effort.  He goes to sleep to the sound of running water and Erik’s odd song.

* * *

 

 

Almost a month goes by uneventfully for the big house.  No longer full of ghosts but the laughter of children.  And near constant hammering, drilling and sawing.

Today, Charles is wheeling himself to the ramp at the front door.  Logan hammers away, still not happy with the things appearance.  Partly because Charles finds something new to complain about every day.  As he goes over it, he stops and gives it a concerned look and sighs.  “Well, its getting there,” he mumbles.  Logan hits the nail a little harder and Charles bites his cheek to keep from laughing. He gives Logan a little nod while passing him by and the older man automatically flips him off.  It’s a perfectly, lovely day, thinks Charles. 

The new construction in the house is going well.  The contractors are doing triple duty, upgrading, expanding, and making things more accessible.  No one knows how long Charles will be in a wheelchair.  Hank says he’s healing, but it’s a long and slow process.  Charles is thankful for what independence he does have, moving on his own in a powered chair.  He’s not allowed to strain himself, but he does get some exercise.  Especially since he talked Erik into really fucking around last week.  A dam has been broken, and his ridiculous mobster is back to worshiping him.  They must be quiet and careful, but it makes everything more exciting.  Especially now that Nurse Doom was recruited for his physical therapy.  They’re even hiding hickies under their clothes like kids.  It makes Charles smile just to think of a heart-shaped mark he knows is on Erik’s shoulder.  He’s having an inordinate amount of fun evading the medical authorities.  And Erik is a natural for dragging him into mischief.  Poor Hank has had several close calls.

Charles passes some of the kids while on his way up to his room.  One girl is wearing her ‘Team Charles’ t-shirt and little Scotty is walking and texting at the same time.  They crash into each other, and a part of Charles wants to be a grown-up father-figure and ask if everything is alright.  But another part, (most of Charles), is a twenty-year old former con-artist/hooker who thinks that would make a great YouTube video.  In slow motion.

Instead of laughing out loud, he offers Scotty a hand and asks the girl if she’s okay.  He’s sends them off with a warning to be more careful and as soon as he’s out of earshot, laughs until his sides hurt.  He makes it to elevator with a sigh.  A quick check of his watch tells him its almost three o’clock.  Erik will be home.  Erik made him a promised last night.  Erik _owes_ him one.

By the time the elevator opens, Charles is hard-pressing his little chair into action, speeding down the hall and hoping no one will stop him.

Fantastic, he thinks, _“I’ve gotten away from all the nannies!”_

“What are you doing?”

Charles stops the chair with jolt.  It gives his back a twinge of pain, but he plays it off.  Nurse Doom is supposed to be off torturing other patients or plotting world domination.  Charles tries to play it cool, smiling at the nurse while he blocks the room.  “Victor!  I was just looking for you!”

“I doubt that.”

Charles grimaces and but hears little feet running somewhere in halls.  He gets an idea and prays it doesn’t come back and bite him in the ass later.  “I was!  I was looking for you.  For…. Ms. Storm.  Have you met the kids’ new computer science tutor?  She’s an absolute sweetheart.  And she wanted to meet you downstairs.”  He smiles through the lie, while not mentioning Mr. Reid who is tutoring the kids in math.

Nurse Doom considers this for a long moment before making up his mind to chastise Charles anyway, “If I see you moving like that again, I’m taking that motor out.”  He threatens Charles with a wag of his finger before walking over to the stairs.

Charles hasn’t quite got the hang of transferring himself to the bed yet.  He relies on others to help him in out of the chair, but Hank or Logan are usually nearby.  But by design, neither of them is in the picture today.  While Logan is tied up outside with the ramp, Hank is vetting the new family pediatrician.  He’ll have to return to the Heart of Gold when Charles is better, but Charles put on a pout this morning and said, “What about the _children_?”

All good plans have their little fallbacks.  But Charles doesn’t have to be idle while he waits. 

He unstraps himself and starts undressing.  The sight of his soft, pale body unnerves him.  He’s not ready to say this is permanent.  But if it is, he simply must find a way to work out his legs and middle.  The feeling in his legs ranges from a dull ache, to nothing, to stabbing and fiery pain.  Today, like the staff, his legs have decided to cooperate.  He feels fine and is more than a little ready for his husband to come home.  With a deep breath he works his way out of the pants, rocking from side to side gently.  He’s doing the same for his underwear when the door and opens.

Charles is caught leaning to one side with half an ass cheek under his hands.

And Erik, being an asshole, laughs.  “Should I have knocked?”

“Shut up, Erik.”

Erik steps in the room but then points at the door, “Should I leave.  You look busy.  You need some alone time?”

“I’m warning you,” says Charles.  “You’re late as it is.”

Erik grins at Charles and gives him a look that sends shivers up down his body.  Erik, ever the professed cock connoisseur licks his lips and walks to the chair and kneels down where Charles has almost freed himself.  He’s still grinning when he works his hands under Charles helps drag the underwear down to his knees.  “I see all the guards are gone for the time being.”

Charles sits back and tries to control his breathing, despite having Erik’s hands on his thighs, kneading them with his strong his hands.  “Mind control.  Well if you insist on ravishing me, then I suppose you can get to it.”

“Do I insist?”

Charles grabs Erik by head and pulls him forward with a strong grip, “Of course you insist.  You made me an offer I couldn’t ref— ah!”  He gasps as Erik swallows the tip of his cock.  Charles keeps his hand in the thick auburn hair and pulls.  Erik moans around his cock before swallowing him down to root.  Charles starts to cry out, but covers his mouth with his other hand. 

Erik bobs, and works his tongue while sucking Charles to full hardness.  Charles can’t help squirming and only gives up when a sharp pain tells him he’s had enough of this position.  He yanks on Erik’s hair and the man comes up for air and a kiss.  Erik, ever the criminal, looks like that cat that ate the canary.  He stands up after giving Charles another cocky grin and bends over, giving Charles room to grab on.

Charles doesn’t mind being carried to bed when Erik does it.  And Erik knows this.  He gives them a little twirl, which makes Charles smile and hide his face before he gets dizzy.  Erik gently deposits Charles in the middle of the bed and climbs up after him.

“Wait,” says Charles feeling another ache in his back.  He’s sure it’ll past, but he wants to give it more time.   “Push me up there, and raise the bed.

Erik obeys and sits Charles upright until he’s comfortable against the pillows.   “How’s that.”

“Good,” says Charles with a hum.   “Mmm, but it could be better.”  He wraps a hand around his own cock.  “Come here,” he says licking his lips.  “Come here and let me...”

Erik climbs up to the bed.  He spreads his legs and holds on to the top of the top of the bed.  Charles pants, hand flying to Erik’s lap to free his cock.  There’s a sound out in the hall, but Charles ignores it, lays back and lets Erik push into mouth.  He moans and closes his eyes while his hand move back to his own cock.  He feels close to coming, Erik’s hands are in his hair keeping him still.  It couldn’t get any better, he thinks.

 

  **“JESUS, MARY, AND JOSEPH!”**

“HANK!”

“H-aank,” says Charles with his mouth still full.

The door slams shut and they’re left there with the shame of it all.

* * *

 

 

Dinner is an awkward affair.

Hank won’t look at either Charles or Erik. 

Erik won’t stop smirking.  The insufferable _tit_.

Ms. Storm sits down to eat and Nurse Doom awkwardly follows her as she changes seat three times.  Before relocating to just beside Angel and Kitty.  The man isn’t stupid enough to bother her there.

Remy bursts into the dining room with a few maids.  Every night he invites the children and a select few adults to eat a meal he himself prepared.  And every night he forces them to sit and wait while he details his latest masterpiece.

Kitty usually interrupts, and tonight is no different.  “For the love big juggos, man!  It’s just macaroni and cheese!”

Remy pulls a knife, as he does almost every night, and Logan waits a second too long to disarm him.  Everyone else at the table wisely ignores them and the room is full of chatter and clinking dishes.

Sometime during his casserole, Charles begins to suspect Erik’s playing footsie with him.  He can’t really confirm without looking under the table.  But he grins and tries to play along, but it’s hard to move his limbs outside therapy.  Erik claps him on the shoulder, “What’s that?  Are you okay?  Does your leg hurt?”  He does look under the table and Charles can feel a blush rushing from his chest to the tip of his ears.

Erik comes up with a gap-toothed red-head.  “Aston!”

The kid laughs and Erik lets him go, running back up to the ‘kids’ side of the table. 

Erik is grinning but the smile falls off his face when he turns to Charles, “What’s wrong now?”

Charles can’t say.  A wave of sadness just suddenly dampens his whole evening.  He shakes his head and feigns a headache.  He makes his excuses and leaves the table.  Remy calls after him, but Charles ignores his friend.  He ignores everyone as he speeds off as fast as the chair will go.  It putts into his father’s office and stops in front of the desk.  Charles looks out the window and sees a few of the construction workers packing up their things.  He wishes he could disappear so they couldn’t witness his pathetic attempt at hiding.

“Charles?”

Of course, thinks Charles with a sigh.  Of course, Erik followed him.  The giant _tit_.

“Charles what’s wrong now?  You’ve got that melancholy coloring again.  You’re all splotchy,” he says as he circles around to the front of the chair.  He kneels and gently runs a knuckle under Charles’s right eye.  “Oh, Freckles… Something’s upsetting you, you might as well tell me now.  No more secrets, remember?  We only end up bloody and handcuffed when we keep secrets.”

Charles tries a smile, “Are you talking about the honeymoon or your arraignment.”

Erik’s expression is soft and patient.  Their therapist, Dr. Koenig sits with him one on one to talk about his own demons.  And Charles has noticed a marked difference, if not an improvement.  He hates being treated with kid gloves but he appreciates Erik’s effort.  And the man is clearly trying.  He rubs Charles on the knee, “I’m talking about right now.  What are you feeling.  Do you want to talk to me about it?”  He pats Charles again, “Just tell me what I can do to help.”

Charles stares at the hand and wills his face to stop being splotchy.  He blinks away unshed tears and clears his throat, “I’m fine.  I’m just tired.  I had long day.  And Hank ruined the afternoon delight,” he snorts.  “And I’m not… I’m just tired.  Give my excuses or something.  I just want to nap.”

Erik doesn’t look convinced.  Still he braves patting Charles on the knee while he gets up slowly, bones cracking.  He stretches his back shakes his legs before moving behind the chair.  He kisses Charles on the head.  “Whatever you want, Charles.  Let me take you to bed.  I’ll tuck you in.”  


Charles slams on the breaks before the chair can back out.  “No.”

“Charles?”

“Don’t wheel me anywhere.  Don’t come… I can go take a nap on my fucking own.  Just leave me alone, Erik.”

Erik starts to lean down for another kiss but Charles turns away.  Erik backs away slowly, hands raised like Charles just threaten him with a gun, “Fine.  Whatever you want, Charles.”

Charles pouts sourly, “Stop saying that.”

“No,” says Erik with a roll of his eyes.  “Because whatever our problem is, it’s always going to be my fault.  Right?”

“Right!”  Shouts, Charles.  He pulls and hurries out to the room before his more rational thinking centers can tell him to stop and talk it out.

Erik lets him go.  Charles takes the elevator back to his room upstairs and slams the door.  He does nap a little, sitting in the chair uncomfortably until Erik comes up and silently helps him into bed.

* * *

 

“Tell me about your childhood, Charles,” says Dr. Koenig.

Every other Monday is Charles’s day.  That Wednesday is Couple’s day and Friday is Erik’s day.

Charles picks at a blade of grass.  They’re having his one on one out in one of the gardens.  Charles vaguely remembers his mother digging with her own hands out here, and later he remembers playing in this grass with Nanny and Gardener.  He frowns at the grass, enjoying some time belly-down on a picnic blanket.  “There’s nothing to say.”  He looks up at Dr. Koenig who’s sits cross-legged with a tablet in his lap.  He’s a handsome older man, around forty or fifty, with kind eyes.  He looks comfortable in his own skin and his voice is soft and deep.  He looks like the kind of mark Charles and Remy would have fought over a few years ago.  Dr. Koenig clears his throat, but Charles raises his hand, “I mean it doesn’t have anything to do with me and Erik.”

Dr. Koenig raises a brow and sits quietly and patiently.  Half the time, their one on one’s is just Charles talking until he has a new epiphany.  It doesn’t seem like this time will be any different.

“Okay it has part of… fuck.  What do you want me to say?  Do I start at the beginning?  Growing up here or what?”

Dr. Koenig taps his tablet a few times and ‘hmmms’.  “Start wherever you’re comfortable.  What’s on your mind right now.”

“My childhood has nothing to do with my problems right now,” snaps Charles.  He looks away, and tries to ignore the sound of Dr. Koenig tapping on the screen again.  Erik warned the man that holding their confidence was important.  They’ve shared all kinds of secrets and truths and Erik threatened to have him skinned alive or something in the first session.  Dr. Koenig knows the barebones of how he got here.  He’s one of the few who know his name is Charles Francis Xavier and this is house.  It was always his house.  But he doesn’t know all the dirty little details of what happened to Charles Xavier and Simon and Martin and Frankie and whoever else he had to be.

Dr. Koenig puts his tablet to the side and leans back like he has all day, not an hour, to wait on Charles to cough up some feelings and revelations.

Charles gives in, but thinks it best to start small.  For himself and Dr. Koenig.  “I remember digging out here with my Nanny.   Once she let me sit on her lap and I was reading some story about a kid’s first sleepover… and I remember it was lovely day.”

“That’s nice, Charles,” says Dr. Koenig in soft.  “Do you think a lot about your childhood here?”

“I obsessed over it for years.  All I thought about was coming home.  And now I’m home and everything…  is not as I expected.  But at least I have people I love again, all around me, right?”

“Are you asking me how you feel, Charles?”

“Shut up,” Charles pouts.  “I know exactly how I feel.”

“And how is that?”

“I feel,” Charles looks a ladybug crawling on the grass.  His worldview limited to his position.  The grass, the blanket’s edge, the hedges and Dr. Koenig.  Charles sighs and closes his eyes.  “I feel powerless.  I feel weak and insubstantial.  Like everyone’s tasked to take care of me now.  Its different.  From before.”

“Different from what?”

“Different from having people treat me like shit and just… taking it and taking it.  Because I couldn’t fight back.”  He keeps his eyes closed.  “But it aches all the same.  It took so long for me get strong.  And now its gone with my stupid legs.  And its like before… when I kept my secrets because I didn’t want Erik to look at me different.  Well it doesn’t matter and he…”  He sniffles and hides his face in his hands.

Dr. Koenig lays a warm hand on his shoulder and they sit quietly through his tears.

* * *

After his hour in the garden, Charles is drained and elects to take a nap.  Nurse Doom gives him room to breathe.  He helped Charles into bed and shuttered the room. Left alone in the dark, Charles lets himself drift off.

“Fuck!”

A bump and thump has Charles sighing, “Turn the light on before you kill yourself, Erik.”

“Charles?”

“No, Tumnus.”

“Ow,” says Erik, “I hit my foot on your chair.  It really stings!  For the love of… why is it so dark in here?  Its just after two.”

Charles sighs and tries to ignore Erik as he rattles around the room.  But he can’t help taking a peek.  Erik starts to strip out of his clothes, his suit looks rumpled and suspiciously stained.  There’s a little bruise under right eye and his knuckles look puffy and swollen.  Charles sighs again, this time nice and loud and put-upon.  “Woe is me.  That my husband has to go and pick fights all the time.  What was it this time?  Did you take someone’s lunch money?”

“We found Bobby.”

Charles sits up on his elbows, “What?”

“We found young Bobby.  I need a break from interrogating him.  He’s got a thicker skull than you can imagine.  I gave the baton to Darwin and Alex.  They’ll call me if he breaks.”

Charles watches his open step out of his clothes and slump away to the bathroom like he’s just a tough day selling shoes in Chicago.  Charles look to where Erik’s pushed his chair around and doesn’t think he could reach it.  “Erik!  Erik would you come out here?!”

Erik sticks a head out, “I’m just taking a quick shower.”

“No, you can’t drop a bomb like that and walk off.  What happened with Bobby.  Did he tell you where Janos is?”

Erik scrubs a hand down his face, “I’m tired.  I’ll talk about it after I get some hot water.  I promise.  Just wait two minutes for me to be human again.”  He gives Charles a pleading look before closing the door and turning on the shower.

Charles counts the minutes until he comes back out.  Two, three, four, going on a million.  He’s sitting up in the bed and waiting on tinderhooks.  Erik walks around the room naked.  He seems to consider dressing but drops, on the bed.  “I’m tired.  You look tired.  Lets just nap here and cuddle a little,” he moves closer and tries kissing Charles on the cheek.

Charles swats his arm, “Stop.  And tell me everything.  Now.”

Erik sighs, “…fine.”  He sits up with a grin, “But after.”

“After is not now, Erik,” snaps Charles.  He narrows his eyes, curiosity piqued, “After what?”

“After you fuck me of course,” Erik grins and pulls up Charles shirt enough to kiss at his bared side.  “Mm, I had long, long day.  I need it.  Please?”

“Long… Erik its only… um… what did you say, before?”

“After lunch.  Before Dinner.”

“It’s only after lunch and I’m in no mood.  And I want… Stop that.”  He swats Erik’s hands as they pull his bottoms down, “Stop that.  Seriously.  I’m telling Dr. Koenig you used up all your Sexual Distractions points.  Again.”

Erik pulls away, his tousled hair pout making him look years younger.  “Snitch.”

“Erik.”

“You know what we do with snitches, Charles.”  He grins and bites at the air before bending down and attacking Charles’s side again.

Charles can’t help laughing, “Stop!  Or I’m… I’m pressing the Nurse Doom Alert.  He leans over to the side table but Erik snatches his hands back.  He pushes Charles down and pins his hands over his head. 

“Nope.  I’m going to have my way with you.  Like a pi-rate.”  He hums he nibbles under Charles’s chin, “And you just have to wait to hear about young Mr. Bobby.  But-“  He sits up, licking his lip like he’s about to start dinner.  “I will tell you, that the coward admitted to starting the rumors about you and Raven after she threaten to cut off his toes.  It was hilarious.”  He sobers up enough to caution, “Don’t tell Dr. Koenig I said that.”

Charles gets a little swept up in Erik’s odd mirth.  If he’s this happy, things can’t be so bad, can they?  “I won’t tell Dr. Koenig you and my stepmother are cutting up teenagers in the basement.”

Erik grins, “Thanks for that, Freckles.” He kisses Charles on the forehead, then the cheek, and the corner of his mouth.  “Knew I could count on you.”

“And this turn of events means what for us?”

“It means, we’re very close to eradicating the last threat to our family.”

“But Emma and Selene,”

“Are not a bother.  We’re watching them very closely.  And I’m going to burst if I don’t have your hands on me soon.”

“You’re the one holding me down, idiot.”

“Yes that.”  Erik considers his options, “Stay put and I’ll get us ready.”

Charles rolls he’s eyes, “It’s not like I’m going anywhere.  You pushed my chair across the room, you damn fool.”

“Umhm.  No escape now, _laddie_.”

“Don’t.  Don’t bring the Dread Pirate Erik back from the dead.  It’s terrible.”

“You love it.”

“Shut up,” Charles finds himself giggling as Erik tickles his side before moving off him.  He grabs the lube and a smaller tow out of the side table.  “I’ll get ready, and you’ll watch.”

“No.  I want to do it.  C’mere.”  Erik turns around and Charles massages his ass before fingering his hole, one and two fingers easily sliding it, “But you’ve already started something in the shower.”

“Mmmhm,” moans Erik.  “And you’re going to finish it.”  He turns around and focuses on Charles’s cock, rubbing him until he’s hard, “There.  That’s exactly what I want.”

Charles blushes.  It doesn’t take long to push him over the edge.  Erik’s strong thighs working beside his and heat of being inside another person after so long a dry spell.  Charles bites down his knuckles as he comes.  “God, damnit.  That’s… that’s…”  He wants to say ‘pathetic’ but Erik just settles his weight on Charles thighs.  His hands working himself while bends over to suck on Charles’s nipples.  Charles’s hands fly up to his hair and pulls.  “No.  I want you too.  Wait.  Wait and turn me around.”

“Charles?”

“Don’t ‘Charles’ me.  Just do it.  Come on, help me over on my side.  We’ll be careful.”

“You can’t…”

“I can!  Just help me.  I want to…”

Erik does as he’s told.  He climbs off and turns Charles to his side.  He spends a long moment rubbing Charles’s sides, “Okay but we’ll take it slowly.”  He kisses the back of Charles his neck while his finger slide down the crevice, and “And you tell me if you feel any discomfort or pain.  Anything out of the ordinary.  Promise?”

“Yes, yes, of course.  Come on.  You know how much I love your cock, you idiot.  I’ve been going through withdrawal here, you know.”

Erik bites him a little hard on the neck, “A cock junkie.  I thought you were good, clean boy.”  He reaches around to cup Charles by the balls, his fingers then circle the limp cock and try to will it back to life.  Charles moans, over sensitive and full of anticipation.  Erik’s hand goes back to the hole.   One wet finger slowly breaches him and gently twists.  It feels like it takes forever.  And Charles shutters all over when Erik finds his prostrate.  The little gland not ready for the gentle prodding.  Charles swallows a lump in his throat while Erik’s other hand holds him by the neck and he bites his ear.  “Are you comfortable?”

Charles frown, “That’s not exactly dirty talk?”

A second finger starts stretching him and Charles moans, “I don’t have to talk dirty.”  Erik’s voice is husky and strained like he’s barely controlling himself.  And for some reason that drives Charles crazy. 

“Do it.  Just do it.  Please, just do it.”

“When you’re ready.”

“Now,” pleads Charles.  “Please.  Please,” he moans the way he knows Erik like to hear.  “Please.”

“Fuck, Charles.  Don’t cheat.  I’m not hurting you…”

“I’m fine!”  Charles snaps, “Stop treating me like… Like not viable anymore.  Like I can’t.  Like I can’t…” He starts to sob without realizing and everything goes into motion.  Erik slides in slowly and Charles gasps with the stretch.  After so long the pain is… he can’t tell if this is the normal pain he would expertly grind against, or something else.  A stitch of pain and burn feels completely foreign to him.  Not unlike his first time. “Stop.  Stop,” he sobs.

Erik goes still and pulls out slowly, “Charles.”

Charels tries to hide his face in the pillow.  “I’m sorry.”

“Freckles,” Erik kisses the top of his head and holds him in his arms.  Charles can feel him going flaccid against his leg. 

“I ruined it.”

“It’s okay.  We’re more significant that just fucking around aren’t we?  I love you.  And this physical thing is not important.  If both our cocks fell off tomorrow, I’d still love you.”

Charles snorts out a laugh, “If both our cocks fell off tomorrow, we’d need some testing.  What aren’t you telling me?”

Erik laughs into Charles’s neck, “Don’t worry.  Don’t worry.  We’ll be fine.  This is fine.  I love you.”  He kisses Charles again, holding him tighter, “I love you.”

* * *

 

 

Charles has fitful dreams and nightmares that night.  They had a private dinner up in the room and let Hank give Charles a once over to make sure he wasn’t really hurt.  They got a lecture but decided to stay in bed.  Erik was confident the Bobby problem was being handled.  The Janos problem was the last thing on the checklist.

Charles wakes up around midnight, flat on his back while Erik rubs circles over his bare tummy.  At some point he was stripped naked and they’ve stayed that way.  Erik kissed his knees and rubbed his feet before rocking them both to sleep with a lullaby.  But even such a peaceful sendoff didn’t help the dreams.

Charles dreamed of Big Daddy and the little boys in the photos.  He saw them, hiding under the bed while Charles was getting ready for bed.  The old man came in the room, brandishing his gun and made Charles lay down.  Charles had complied, like he always did.  He heard the slight sound of someone tapping glass far away.  He did everything he was everything he was told.  And under the bed, the two nameless little boys cried. 

Erik sits up when he feels Charles moving around, “What’s wrong?”  He looks at Charles, “Are you hurt?”

Charles shakes his head, “Bad dreams.”

“Oh, sweetheart.”  He pulls Charles closer and kisses his head.  “Do you want anything?  Some milk or something.  Old Nana always offered me milk… wait.  Are you lactose intolerant?”  He asks sleepy yawns.

Charles chuckles, “No.”

* * *

 

Erik yawns again.  “I had a thought.  Or rather Darwin had a thought.  We’ve both been cooped up for a while.  Let’s go out tomorrow night.  Have a swanky dinner.  Flash some money somewhere.  We could double date with Warren and the fake-Cousin.”

“Fake-cousin?”

“She barely passes for Magda.  She looks more like me in a wig, but I can’t tell him anything.”

Charles laughs, “That sounds pretty good actually.  I’ve seen you in a wig.  It’s glorious.”

Erik yawns, “Okay.  Tomorrow.  Double date.”

* * *

After a brief escape from Nurse Doom, Charles tells Remy about his problems.

But his longtime friend is short to diagnose him, “Wait are you saying he offered you some ass and you turned it down just to start crying?”

“No, that’s not what happened.  I’m saying we’ve… I’m not in the right space in my head.  Do you think we’re moving too fast?  I can’t tell if I’m rushing or what… I just don’t know what to do.”

Remy rolls him to the kitchen door.  “The next time someone offers to hop on your dick, you say yes and thank you, and take the money… wait no.  That’s the old prep talk.  Just go bother your shrink, I’m cooking.”  He shuts Charles out and goes back to preparing lunches.

Charles sighs, “Love you too, Rem.”

Jubilee stands at the doorway with her mouth hanging open and her phone out.

Charles gives her his most, “Don’t you dare turn any of that into meme.  I mean it.”

The girl gives him a smile and opens her yellow jacket, her Team Charles shirt is now covered in glitter.  “TC fo’ Life, yo!”  She fistbumps him and skips off to do whatever the teenagers in his house do between classes and meals.

It makes Charles smile, and he thinks about the other things on his to do.

Making things right with Erik.  Growing up.  Finishing school.  There's so much to do, he thinks.  And wonders if he has to strength to do it all.

 


	15. Remy & Wheels and the Rumble in the Bronx

They start with something familiar.

Charles in handcuffs and Erik wearing a nice suit.  Charles is naked, face down on the bed, his hands up and secured to the bedframe.  He’s been opened and stretched.  Erik came home from work with a bottle of liquor and some new lube that tastes fantastic.  He licked Charles open while Charles sucked on his fingers, then fingered him slowly and thoroughly for such a long time that Charles came untouched.  After a quick wipedown, Charles was flipped over tied down.  And he can’t be happier about it.

Erik stands to the side with a black mask and his erect cock tenting his expensive slacks. His vest is opened and his tie is a loose.  Chares isn’t sure when the mask came into the picture. He vaguely recalls that there was some important meeting today, perhaps a TV appearance with Warren.  He slept most of the day and missed it, but damn if he doesn’t appreciate Erik’s tailor right now.  He swears he can see Erik’s cock twitch just beneath the fabric.

The sight makes Charles mouth water, “Oh my god.  Yes.  A thousand times, yes.”

Erik shakes his head and backs away, “That’s not what I asked you.  If you are comfortable and ready to proceed, then tell me what you want.  Be explicit.”

Charles grins up at his husband, “I think we’re past that point.”  He tries shake his naked hips.  Its’s not convincing, and hardly the full effect he was aiming for.

Erik still laughs, “Ha, ha, Mr. Lehnsherr.  I told you no moving, remember.  Not until we’re clear on the rules.”

“Right,” says Charles.  He lays his head back down and goes perfectly still.  “I’ll be good.”

Erik smiles wide, but takes another step away from the bed, “I’m thinking you could be better.  I want you to beg me.  And if you’re good enough, I’ll give it to you.”

Charles rolls his eyes, “I’m not begging for anything.”

“Oh, now that’s a naughty boy.”  The change in his him subtle.  Erik stands straighter, hands behind his back.  Feet apart and eyes focused on Charles.  “Am I going to have to discipline you, Charles?”

The way Erik says his name makes something pleasant and warm stir his chest.  Charles starts to answer rudely, hoping he’ll get a proper response out of Erik.

But fire and lightning goes down to his spine. Erik must read it on his face, “Charles?!”  He runs over, rushes to uncuff Charles and sit him up to be more comfortable.  “Are you okay?”

Charles slams his fist on the bed.  The resulting soft ‘poof’ sound is hardly satisfying.  “I’m mucking it up, again.”

“Don’t talk like that, Charles.”  Erik helps him up, adjust his legs until they’re straight in front of him.  “Here, I have another idea.”

Charles rolls his eyes.  “I never thought I’d say this, but I’m getting tired of having you suck my cock.”

Erik laughs, “I’m just going to pretend you didn’t say that.  For both our sake’s.”  He’s all smirk and smug, as he sits up on the bed.  He kicks off his expensive shoes, bends at the waist and takes off his socks.  His vest rides up and gives Charles a delicious view of his lower backside.  And it’s just not fair.

Charles sighs, “This sucks.  I don’t want to keep apologizing for it, but it doesn’t feel right.”

“Good,” nods Erik.  He gets comfortable, sitting beside Charles against the headboard.  He takes of the mask as a second thought and tosses it to the floor then leans over to adjust a pillow behind Charles.  “I’m getting tired of hearing it.  Dr. Koenig says I should be honest on that regard, by the way.”  He throws up a hand and shakes his head, “None of this is your fault.  There’s nothing wrong with you.  There’s nothing wrong with us being careful or taking our time.  We’ll find our rhythm again.  And it might not be roleplaying every night with light bondage.  We can afford skipping a few nights of debauching each other.  And if I’m perfectly honestly…”

“Don’t tell me you’re secretly straight too.”

Erik laughs, “I’m secretly old.  Well, I feel like I’m getting old.  And I’m always trying to keep up with you and keep you interested, you little nymph.  We could use a break.”

Charles hears the perfectly reasoned argument.  It’s a very adult way to comfort someone.  Excuses the circumstances they find themselves in, excuses Charles’s attitude.  And from anyone else Charles would applaud it.  It’s a fine act.  But this is Erik.  Erik is dramatic, and smug, and tactile, and kinetic.  Being still like this, night after night.  Comforting Charles.  Servicing Charles.  It’s a flip to how Charles thinks of sex and giving and taking.  Right now, the power balance feels especially unbalanced.  He takes from Erik.  And Erik gives.  Time, patience, fantastic blowjobs. 

Charles hates it.  And he doesn’t know why.

Erik yawns, not minding his good suit even though it’ll wrinkle if he sleeps in it. 

As usual, he finds it easy to sleep anywhere with Charles nearby.

As usual, Charles finds it impossible to turn his mind off.

* * *

 

Charles is on a mission to find a sympathetic ear but can’t bring the subject of his and Erik’s sex life up again to just anyone.  So, it comes up in couple’s therapy.  Dr. Koenig asks if everything is okay.  Erik smiles thinly, fidgets with his hands before sitting on them.  Charles rolls his eyes as his husband lies, “Fine.  Everything is fine.  This is just a little gardening accident.”

Koenig doesn’t bother looking up.  He scribbles something on his tablet and ‘mmhmms’ at them.

Erik looks around the room, uncharacteristically nervous.

Charles throws up his hands, “Just tell him whatever you did, now.  We’re not wasting a whole a session over this again.”

Erik is fuming, blushing and stuttering in his seat.

Dr. Koenig still acts like he’s more worried over his tablet. Charles finds this suspicious.  He leans forward in his chair and wheels closer to Koenig’s desk, “Oi!  Are you over there playing Words With Friends or something?”

Dr. Koenig leans away, hiding his screen, “I assure you, sir.  I take my business very seriously!”

There’s an odd beeping in the room and Charles points, “What was that!”

“Me,” says Erik.  He pulls out his phone.  “I have to take this…  A moment Doctor?”

Koenig nods and but Charles frowns and crosses his arms, “Here!?  Really?”

Koenig starts to write again, “You’d rather he not answer it?”

“I’d rather he give a shit!”

“Charles!” says Erik.  He covers the phone with this hand, unaware he could mute it with a button.  “Language in front of the doctor!”

Koenig eyes bounce between them like he’s watching a tennis match before settling on Charles.  He frowns, “You do seem especially agitated, Charles.  Do you normally have a problem with inappropriate language.  Blurting or…”

“Oh fuck off!”  Charles slams his hand on his armrest of his chair, “This fucking criminal is using my time to do business when he promised we’d work this shit out.  There’s nothing wrong with my bloody language!”  Now that they mention it, Charles wonders at his outburst.  Especially with Erik staring and Dr. Koenig busy with his stylus and notes.  Charles clears his throat, and tries to bring the real issue back to the forefront.  “What I mean to say is, this is all a distraction.  He’s good for those, a bloody—damn it.  He’s an expert in it.  We have a row going and he’s back to kissing me quiet.  But rubbing out my ‘bit of rough’ is not going to answer anything.  _Erik_.”

Erik rolls his eyes, “I never meant it like that…”

Koenig pushes his glasses up his nose, “Interesting.  Erik?  Is there something you’d like to share?”

Erik puts his hands in lap and smiles with all his pearly teeth.  “Like I said, it was an accident.

“No, you ass,” starts Charles.  But Koenig raises his pen and gives him a look.  So, Charles buttons up his lip.

“Erik,” says Koenig, “Are you deliberately trying to distract me from a real issue?  When did you tell Charles you would change him?”

Erik looks sideswiped, “I what?  I never!”  He looks at Charles, like he’s been stabbed in the heart and will bleed out with no rescue.  Charles pulls a face, turns away and ignores him.

“Charles!?”

“Erik, says Koenig again.  “Answer the question.”

“I didn’t!  I mean… I mean…” He looks at his palm, and goes quiet.  He thinks for a long moment before finally looking up at the doctor, “I don’t know.  I just want to him to have everything he was deprived of all that time… I want to provide for him.  I want to protect him.  I want him to be what he would have… I want him to shine as brightly as the star he was clearly born to be… That’s all.  Charles is incredible.  He could do a lot with the right resources and people behind him.”

“And yet,” says Charles, partly moved by Erik’s words, but still very annoyed.  “I can’t leave the house.  The property.  We went out to dinner the other night with family and when I suggested we go to a hotel or something, he blew me off!”

“You liked it!”

“Not that!”  Charles wishes he had something to throw at Erik, “I mean he’s been restricting me again.  When I already feel so _less_ sometimes.  I can’t do what I used to. No bookshops, no business.  I can’t jump off buildings.  Or run.  Or make love to my husband like I want… Everything has become so damn careful between us.  I feel like…” He raises his hands, tears in his eyes while lets out a little scream of frustration.  “Ahh!  And I just I feel we’re so damn distant now!  I’m apart from everyone!”

Erik shifts in his seat, “No, that can’t be.  We all love you, Charles.  So much!  I feel like we’ve been very intimate.  I’m trying so hard to change, and… I used to swallow up all these feelings I had.  Like I couldn’t let anyone see.  What we’ve shared in these last few months, I feel closer to you than before.”

Charles is dry eyed and straight-mouthed when he replies, “Enema’s don’t count, Erik.”

The strangest bark erupts from the shrink.  Charles and Erik stare while Koenig slaps his thigh, drops his stylus and belly laughs.  He stops, raising a hand like he’s asking for mercy.  “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”  He hiccups while he takes off his glasses and wipes his eyes.  “I’m very, very sorry.  This is terribly unprofessional.  I’ve never… oh my.”  He sighs into his last laugh before putting his glasses back on and resuming the session with a straight face.  “My apologies.”

Charles can’t even be angry, but Erik’s giving it a go.  He looks at the man incredulously, “Seriously?”

Charles rolls his eyes, “Are you done?”

Koenig nods and tucks his tablet under his arm, “Certainly.  Again, I’m sorry.  But I do have some homework for you two.”

Erik takes homework time very serious.  Despite being offended, he sits upright in his chair, his own little journal out and ready to take down whatever Koenig instructs them to do.

Charles is a great deal looser.  He sits back, “Well what is this time?”

“I want you,” says the Doctor while pointing at Charles, “To get out more.  On your own.  Exercise your independence again.”

Erik looks Concerned and Apprehensive.  “You mean you want Charles to leave the house.  By _himself_?”

Koenig steeples his index fingers, appearing to think on it.  “No.  I want him to get out, without you.  Your homework, is to be okay with that.”

Erik nods seriously, looking down at his little journal and then across to Charles.  “I understand.   Really, I do.  You need some breathing room?”

Charles sighs, “Perhaps.”

Erik gives him a sad smile, “Then go.”

* * *

Charles is not sure what he expected.  They go home, covered in a still quiet fog blocking out everyone else, but it makes seeing each other feel impossible.  They get ready for bed separately, and Charles finds himself having another bad night, lying wide awake while Erik sleeps like a stone. 

He sits up on his elbows, careful of his back.  Always, always so careful now.  He’s always thinking about every move he makes.  Every move anyone around him makes.  And its driving him crazy.  He feels so tied down, with his worry and anxiety shifting focus to his own wellbeing and questions he rather not ask. 

Something is tight in his chest as he thinks it, “ _How long will you put up with this?  How long will you love me? Maybe I won’t hurt you like she did, but what about you?  Will you hurt me?  Will you leave me_ ,” Charles looks over Erik’s shoulder at the little book on his side table.  _“If I read that, I’m an invasive creep.  If I don’t read that… I’ll never know.  No, no, no, I’m not a thief anymore.  I’m going to trust him.  He’s putting so much effort into being good for me and I’m going to trust him and not read that diary.  What does a mobster journal about anyway?  Today I busted a few kneecaps?  XOXOXO Mr. Erik Xavier?”_   Charles grins.  He’s actually one hundred percent certain the book is full of bad poetry and Mr. Xaviers.  He grins a little harder and makes up his mind to leave it alone. 

Tomorrow, he thinks, will just have to be a better day.

* * *

 

The next day starts terribly.

Erik leaves before sunrise.  Nurse Doom helps Charles get ready for the day.  After some brutal time stretching, he has a checkup with Hank.  Hank doesn’t end with his usual, optimistic, if unattached catchphrase, ‘well done.  You’re still healing.’

Charles sits in the middle of his bed while Hank stands across with an x-ray and sharpie.  He talks and talks and talks.  And Charles just hears white noise.  He thinks he’s still dreaming.  Dressed in grey sweats, sitting in his childhood bedroom while a doctor not much older than him explains his paralysis.  He uses _that_ word again and again.  It’s the first time he hasn’t said ‘temporary’ or ‘healing’.  Charles swallows a lump in his throat while the white noise gets louder.  He croaks a little, “Where’s Erik?”

Hank’s steady expression of indifference falters.  The mask he wore to get the news across in a professional manner slips and Charles sees his friend having a hard time. 

Hank looks down, twisting the film in his hand, “He’s back home.  Back south, um… wrapping up some loose ends.  He seemed to think you’d want some time to yourself.”  He walks over to the bed and carefully sits on the bed, “I’m sorry.  I should have waited?  This is something you should hear with your support behind you.  And I just… I’m sorry.  I never exceled at bedside manner.”

Charles pats him on the thigh, the white noise a little dimmer.  At least he knows Hank cares.  He pats him again, “Its fine.  We knew it was a possibility.  You told me from the start. I can adjust my expectations.  I’ll be fine really, with or without Erik.”

“No, it shouldn’t be that way,” says Hank.  He sniffles and wipes his nose with the back of his sleeve.  “I’m sorry any of this happened to you.  After everything you’ve been through.  I just wanted to be good enough, you know.  I wanted to make it right.”  He squeezes Charles by the hand and hiccups into another sob.  “My teacher was brilliant you know.  He would have figured this out.  He would have had a new spine cells growing in a petri dish or something… I couldn’t help him either.”  He claws his hands down his face before crying, “I’m so sorry.”

Charles is touched to know how much he cares, but this is happening to him, not Hank.  He’ll need some time, he thinks.  Still, he squeezes, “I know.  And thank you.  You’re such a good friend Hank.”  He turns a little gives the man a kiss on the temple.  Hank crumbles falling over Charles to cry good and hard.

What a terrible morning, thinks Charles while he holds his doctor.  After all, he had plans for the day.

 

* * *

 

Charles can still hear that white noise, ringing in his ears while he moves on autopilot.

He lets Hank go with a soft smile and a promise to see each other later.  Perhaps a nightcap and a chess match in the study.  He passes the kids and finds a handful of them standing around crestfallen.  A part of him wants to ignore it, go back to bed and cry.

A part of him wants to stay lost in the white noise.  It gets louder the more focused he is on other people.

Jean explains that little Aston has eaten, not one, but a handful of marbles.  Hank and the teachers have rushed him off to a hospital.

Kitty is teary-eyed while she hangs off Jean’s shoulder.  “It was my fault, Professor.  I dared him to eat one, I was just joking.  But he’s just a kid.  Fuck, he’s a baby!  Why’d I do that?  I’m such a jerk!”  She wails into Jean’s shoulder.  Scott chimes in, agreeing with her and then yelps when Jubilee pinches his nipples.  They all dissolve into a mass of screaming, crying, and shouting.

The white noise clears up and Charles feels like he can hear their thoughts.  He can hear their anxiety, and worry.  He’s been in their shoes, orphaned as he was.  He’s been lost and abused, and at just that moment, he feels like he can hear them clearly, crying out for what they really need.

Charles clears his throat, and when that does nothing, whistles.  Snaps his fingers.  Rolls his eyes, “Oh for the love god, children!  Shut up!”

They all go silent and turn to Charles.

Having their full attention is a little intimidating.  Kitty is half on Scott’s back.  Jean is holding back a pair of girls intent on helping Kitty.  And Jubilee is popping gum with her phone camera out. 

“Right, well.  I just wanted you to know that from now on, things are going to be more regimented.  You’ll have chores, and keep up with your classes, and learn to be good, honest hardworking citizens.”

Jubilee rolls her eyes, “And when we’re old enough, it’s back to the Ms. Ro and,” she tongues her own cheek and Charles goes beet red.

“No.  I mean you obviously have the freedom to do whatever you want.  When you’re adults.  But for now you’re under my care.  And I want the best for all of you.  I want you to have choices I didn’t have.  And so does Ororo and Erik and everyone here.  Sue thinks it would best to give you more discipline.  And I fully agree.  And as a reward for this, you’ll be given an allowance.  Your own cards and a monthly stipend to do whatever you want.  A car when you’re old enough to drive.  You own space in the house.  Would any of you agree to this?”

Kitty smiles, climbing down for Scotts back and slapping him hard on the shoulder, “Fuck yeah!”

“Language,” says Charles.  He sighs, “Let’s go to the mall.”

The hallway is rocked with the force of their screaming.

Charles hopes he’s hasn’t done something he’ll later regret.

* * *

He regrets everything, thinks Charles.  Two hours later and circling the proverbial drain.  Nine teenagers, ten year-old twins, and an unfamiliar little girl that materialized from nowhere.  He’s told she’s actually the younger sister of one the bodyguards and has an odd way of showing up and disappearing.

Charles aches everywhere after sitting up so long.  He had to stop Jean, Scotty, and a handful of well-meaning citizens from pushing him along.

Remy was brought along to help keep an eye on the children.

Not pick pockets.

So of course, he’s picking pockets.

“What?” says his oldest friend when they all settle for a rest in the food court.  There’s some kind playground and the younger kids are screaming through it.  They bought along some of Darwin’s boys, in lieu of Alex.  They’re all dressed like secret service agents and Charles catches some mall rats taking pictures of them.  Scotty and Jean are arguing about pretzels.  Jubilee is putting on some kind of magic show, conning the spectators out of money.  Kitty is taking a security guard to task for following two young black girls around a clothing store.  The man looks suitably chastised and seems to be apologizing to her.

Charles sighs and looks across his wobbly table at Remy and his basket of microwaved pizza.  “I gave you plenty money before we left.  There’s no reason to  feel anyone down.  For any reason.  We’re not kids anymore, Rem.”

Remy tosses him a middle finger and digs into his greasy abomination, “You’re just jealous,” he says with a mouthful of pizza.  “Here I am straddling life with both legs.  I can be myself _and_ the new me at the same time.  There ain’t no expectations tying me down to turn into some old sweater vest wearing grandpa.”

Charles takes offense, smooths down the front of his very sensible vest.  “I’m trying to be responsible.  I want to help give these kids a proper life.  Something we were both denied, if you don’t remember.”

Remy rolls his eyes, “You make it sound like living with me was so terrible.  There was good couple of years there, right?  I fed ya, kept ya clean.  All you had to do was hunker down in a room somewhere and watch tv or read that old ratty book.  No homework or nothin’.  I can’t believe you actually filled our house with egghead teachers.  Yuck…”  He bites his

Charles wonders at Remy’s aversion to an education, it’s the first he’s ever heard of it.  “Odd.  You know I’m going to start studying for my GED.  I thought you might want to join me.”  He watches his friend carefully, the white noise in his mind is a dim hum.  Remy is a physical, upright, speaking link to his past.  They both know so much about each.  At the same time, they’ve kept so many secrets.  Many of Charles’s are out in the open.

But Remy is still a closed book.

Charles looks back where to Kitty is patting the security guard on the back.  It seems she’s made the man cry.  Good for her, he thinks.  But while they’re outside the store, a white boy wearing a hoodie, that clearly still has the tags on it walks out with a shifty look.

Remy slurps obscenely on his soda straw.  He smacks his lips after draining the cup, “I love orange soda.  Hey, ‘member that time we were squatting in that mall in Virginia?”

Charles grins, the memory still a happy one.  “We ran circles around the mall cop.”

“Yeah he was complete idiot.”  Remy’s smile is tight, “Still you got plenty sleep and food.  Got to sleep in a super bouncy bed every night.  Watch big screen TV.  And remember when we ate all the ice cream one night?”

Charles nods, “It was good.”  The haze of the happy memory parts and Charles sees something he never asked.  “Why did that mall cop let us stay?”

Remy freezes, then his fingers twitch and fidget while he stares around the food court.  He sighs, “You know damn why.  It cost me nothin’ and you were fine.  No one laid a hand on you, right?”

Charles frowns and leans forward, “But you…”

“Forget it, kitten.  It was years ago,” he makes a face shrugs.  Looks at everything but Charles.  “It don’t matter.  I’ve got no hang ups about what I am.  I wasn’t denied some fine destiny or nothin’.  I’m just an ordinary guy who happens to be one hot piece of ass too.  It’s just always been that way.”

Charles once asked Remy how long he’d been working corners and bars.  He never answered.  In fact, he went out of his way to bury the subject, dress for his next date, and pat Charles on the head.  Charles wants to throw up, overwhelmed with guilt and sadness.  “I think maybe you should talk to Dr. Koenig…”

“Fuck!”  Remy slams his hand on the table, then points a plastic at Charles, “Look it, shorty!  I don’t need to start taking of this pscyho-babble bullshit off of you!  You’re not a shrink, _Chuck_.  You came up same as I did and all this, this… this Daddy Warbucks shit is fine.  But I’m not gonna start calling some punk runt _I_ picked up Daddy.  I can earn my own way and take care of myself.”  He grabs the shopping bag filled with wallets and stomps away, tossing his cup of ice at a trashcan, only to miss and mess up the floor.

Jean comes over, her arms crossed as she watches him walk away.  “What are you two fighting about?”

Charles sighs.  She had a severe opiate problem, but she’s holding it together.  She’s a lot like him, thinks Charles.  She empathizes with the other kids.  She’s become their self-appointed babysitter.  “He’ll come around.  How are the kids.”

She shrugs but gives him a rundown, “Twins are getting tired.  Scott won’t buy anything.  He thinks we’ll owe you in chores or something later.  Kitty’s talking about calling a congressman.  Jubilee is…”

There’s a shout from the crowd and Jubilee takes a bow and all the cash that’s handed to her.

“She’s fine.”

Charles smiles, “Good.”

“It’s nice.  Knowing we can all go home together.  Knowing we have a family to back us up.  I don’t think I’ve ever had that.”  She leans forward and kisses him on the head, “You’re like a real life super hero.  You saved me once before, you know.  If you hadn’t gave me that cash on the street, I never would have met Ms. Gwen and Ororo.  I’d still be out under the thumb of whatever thug thought he could use me.  I don’t think I ever said thank you.”

Charles wipes his eyes and squeezes her hand, “You are very welcome, Jean.  No one deserves to go through that, and you are a very special girl.”

Kitty approaches the table, “Okay I guess we’re done here.  I can probably get this place straight in a week or two.”

Charles laughs, “Are you head of Mall security now?”

Kitty flexes her muscle, “You bet your tiny white-boy ass, I am!”

 

* * *

 

 

They converge on the mall parking lot and the three cars that got them here.  Two armored SUVs and a slick BMW seemed like overkill, but Darwin wouldn’t let them without it.  Charles had ignored the guards following them around all day, but they’re back in focus now.

They hold the doors open.  Make sure the kids are wearing seatbelts.  Offer Charles a hands-up into his seat.

But he stops them and turns in his chair.

“Where’s Remy?”

Jean shrugs, “I think he went back inside.  Maybe he forgot something.”

Charles rolls his eyes.  “I doubt it.”  He backs away from the security team.  “Take them all home.  I’m sure they’re tired.  Remy and I will come back in the car.”

The senior gunman drops the bags he was loading in the cars.  “Sir, no!  I’m under strict orders from Mr. Summers.  If I lose you at all, that’s it.  That’s my ass.  That’s my whole family’s ass.  You know how boss can get.”

Charles rolls his eyes, “It’s no big deal.  Erik assured me things were safer.  Are they not?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Bobby is caught.  Schmidt is dying and we’re working with Hellfire, right?”

“Well, yeah,” the young man pouts.  “But… there’s still plenty of people who want you dead sir.  Just to hurt the boss.”

“Out here?  In such a public place?”

“Well, yeah!”

Charles wheels away from the young man, only for two more to circle around him.  “Oh for fuck’s sake.  I’m just going to check the food court.  Just inside the door.  Leave me alone!”

He can’t say why, but he has a bad feeling.  He has to be the one to find Remy and he has to find him now.  It’s some small relief that the men leave him alone and let Charles go back inside.  He checks the food court and the shops lining it and comes up empty.  A bad feeling settles in his stomach when heads for the men’s room.

Someone’s turned off the light, and locked the door.  Anyone else would think it’s being cleaned.

But Charles knows better.  He rolls up to the door and knocks.  “Excuse me, please.  Someone in there?  I’m in a wheelchair and it’s kind of an emergency.  I can just come back with mall security…”

Someone thumps on the other side of the door and rushes to unlock the door.

A tall sweaty man stands in the doorway and smiles down at Charles.  “Nothing wrong, son.  Just a little maintenance on the sink.  Sprung a leak.”

Charles blocks the door, keeping he man in while peering inside, “I thought I saw a friend of mine come in here.”

The man shrugs, “No.  Just me.  Now if you’d excuse me.”

“Jiggly-“

Charles rolls forward on the man’s foot, “Remy!”  


“Shit!” the man grabs Charles by the front of his shirt and pulls him out the chair, tosses him on the floor and runs away.

Charles cries out, tries to twist in a better position.  “Fuck!  Fuck!”  He pants while he pulls his chair back and tries to climb up off he dirty floor.  “Remy?”

A foot falls down from one the stalls and there’s retching before Remy stumbles out.  His mouth shiny and swollen.  His shirt sleeve rolled up and tears streaming down his face.  “I fucked up.”

Charles leans on his chair, trying hard to climb up, “Just help me… please.  I can’t get back up on my own yet.”

Remy nods and stumbles forward.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean for you to get hurt or nothin’…. I was just stressed and I needed a little… I couldn’t the edge off.”

“Don’t,” says Charles while Remy lifts from under his arms.  “Don’t make excuses for this.  I’m with you, okay?  I won’t abandon you again.  No matter what, I promise.”  Once he’s back in the chair he leans forward hugs Remy hard.  “Now let’s go get that asshole.”

“What?”

“You heard me.  He didn’t think twice before tossing me out the chair.  And you’re drugged with god knows what.  I’m not letting that go, Remy.  The kids loved their outing today.  This is going to be _their_ mall.  And I’m not going to tolerate someone like that being near them.” 

There’s a wrench on the sink and Charles takes it and tucks in by his side.  “Come on!  Lets go kick his ass!”

Remy laughs, “Are you high?  We can’t go chase some dealer John around this fake ass Mall of America.”

Charles wheels out ahead of him, forcing Remy to keep up.  “Where’d you meet him?”

Remy shrugs, “In the emo t-shirt shop.”

Charles narrows, “Come on.”

“No!  Charles, you can’t be serious.  Let’s go get the goon squad.  At least they’re armed, right?”

Charles spins his wheels faster and skids to stop in front the shop.  The assailant is lurking around behind the counter.  Stuffing Remy’s bag of wallets under the register.  He turns back, doesn’t notice Charles and Remy and shuffles into a back room. A young girl comes out and shouts, “Fucking dweeb!  You stink like you jizzed yourself!  O. M. G.”  She rolls her eyes and moves to the register with a disgusted look on her face.

 

“Okay,” says Remy.  “You know where he is.  Let’s go get help now…”

 

Charles combs his fingers through his hair and ignores his friend.  He rolls up to the counter with a smile, “Excuse me,” he bats his eyes for effect.

“Oh!”  The girl pats her green-blue hair and leans over the counter.  “I didn’t see you there… um.  Welcome to the Bronx.  How can I be of service?”

Charles stares big-eyed at her, “My friend back there ate some bad sushi.  I’m afraid I left my phone.  Could I use yours to call our ride back?”  He looks back at Remy and on cue he doubles over.

The girl leans over enough for her breasts spill over her ripped t-shirt.  “Oh! That poor guy.  Of course, you can doll, its right in back.”  She walks out and steps behind him and the chair.  Charles’s first instinct is to snap but he just smiles up at her and lets her guide him into the shop’s office.

There sits the man from the bathroom.

The girl snaps her fingers, “Buffalo, you big fart, get out of the way!  I have an emergency here!”

The man looks at Charles, then the girl, then back at Charles.  He knocks over a mannequin and tries to push them over.  Charles is quicker this time reaching for the wrench and smacking he man hard on the wrist, then elbow.  He backs away screaming while the sales girl tries to back out of the room.  Charles grabs her by the hair and pulls for all he’s worth.  She comes tumbling forward, landing in a heap by the guy’s feet. 

Charles is gasping for air and everyone looks poised to start screaming.  He puts a finger up to his lips and pats the front of his jacket.  “Quiet,” he’s not actually armed but they seem to believe it’s a gun, and not his leftover soft pretzel.  “Get up.”

The girl gets up sobbing, holding her hands up and the dealer stands behind her, bracing his arm.  He’s inching towards the desk and phone.  Charles guesses there’s a gun locked away there.  He breathes out throw his nose, reaches in his jacket and bluffs.

“Get over there by that door.  Where does it go?”

The girl cries, shaking and jiggling to full effect.  “Its, the break courtyard.  We smoke back there, away from the customers.”

Charles thinks about the layout of the mall.  An opening there could be connected to four other stores.  He’s not exactly eager to bring other people into this, but he needs more privacy.  “Go.  Move, the both of you.”

The man tries to linger by the desk, “My arm!”

“Fuck your arm,” says Charles.  “Move!”

Remy chooses then to come inside.  He looks at Charles hold two able-bodied people up with a nothing but a wrench and sighs.  “Oh, for the love of god!”

“Shut it!”  He rolls forward, pressing the shopkeepers closer to the door and away from the desk.  “Get the gun from back there.”

“What gun?”

“Just do it!”

Remy complies, but mumbles while finding the only real weapon in the room.  He’s checks the barrel to see if its loaded.  He’s hesitant to hand it over, “Maybe I should keep it, since you’re already packing and all.

“Rem…”

“Right, right.  Whatever you say, boss.”  He puts the gun in Charles’s hand and the dealer seems to just catch up.

“Hey!  You lied!”

“Acting,” says Charles with a very serious face.  “Now move.  Out, and be quiet!”

The shopkeepers follow orders.  Charles tells them to line up on the side of the building, “Who do you work for!”

The girl cries, “The Bronx is a subsidary of New York Clothing aimed at alternative preteens and marketed by…”

“No!”  Charles motions for her move away further, “Not you.  Just be quiet and stay over there.  Get down and face the wall.”  She cries but does as she’s told.  Charles turn to the dealer and finger on the trigger.  “Now you, answer.  Who do you work for?”

The man cringes, “Nobody.  Myself!  I come here 9 to 5, like.”

Charles wants to scream, but he control his voice, “No.  Who are you selling drugs for?  Who gives the shit!”

The man was already a sweaty mess, and he’s only getting worse.  “Look it’s nothing.  Just my side thing.  Its nothing at all.  I don’t work for nobody.”

“Who supplies you!”

“No one!”

Charles wants to shoot him right there for lying again.

“Hey,” says Remy.  He looks calm and centered, compared to how Charles feels.  “It’s no big deal.  We can let him go.  This isn’t our problem.  We’re just gonna let him go.  Right?”

Charles thinks about his kids coming back to this place with this lowlife stalking it.  He thinks of whatever gang he works for, supplying him in a territory Charles has now claimed for himself and his family.  And that’s the crux of it.  He had to listen before, never fight for anything, because it was just the two of them.  And alone they couldn’t do anything.  But he’s not the same person now.  He’s not just Charles, he’s Simon Lehnsherr.  And there’s a whole army behind him if he chooses to start a war.  He almost doesn’t care who it’s with.  In this moment, he just wants them to know it was Erik’s little husband that threw the first blow.

“Yo, hey.  I’m gonna count to three, Jigglypuff.  And you’re gonna put the gun down.  One, two…”

“Three.  And stop calling me Jigglypuff.”

_BANG_

The shot rings out in the little courtyard.  Charles doesn’t now how much time he has before someone notices and comes running back here.  The dealer falls to the ground, mouth agape and holding his leg.

Charles cocks the gun, “I’ll ask once more.  Understand that my family controls the police.  I can kill you dead right here, and no one will care.”

Remy looks ready to call him out, but decides to move behind Charles.  “Boss, no.”

“Boss?”  Says the dealer, “Who are you?”

“I’m no one to play with.  And you took my good man here off his sobriety.  You and whoever you work are going to pay for it.”

“No!”  The man tries to back further away, knocking his head hard against the wall.  “Please no! I’ll do anything!”

“Tell me who you work for, and I’ll let you live.”

The man shakes his head.  His eyes dart around before he settles on an answer.  “Shadows, man.  I work for Shadow King’s crew.”

Charles frowns at the name, but he rather not let on he doesn’t know anything.  “See.  Wasn’t that easier than being shot, Mr….”  He leads waiting for a name.

The deal eyes are already shifty, but he answers, “Buffalo…”

The girl twists enough to talk, “Fuck that!  His name is Bill Grady!  He works part time, cause he’s brother’s the owner or something and…”

“Shut up, Surge!”

The girl pushes away from the wall, “Serves you right!  I knew you were stalko-creep!”

“Miss,” Charles keeps the gun on the dealer while addressing her, “Thank you so much for your cooperation.  Come here.”

She gets and tentatively approaches him and Remy.  He smiles up at her like he did in the beginning.  “If ever you need anything.  Call me.  I’m Simon Lehnsherr.”

“Oh fuck,” says the dealer.  He audibly knocks is head against the wall.

“And you, better not lay a hand on her.  I’m leaving you both alive and whole.  Tell your boss there’ll be no more dealing in this mall.  Come along, Remy.”  He stuffs the gun in his jacket, with the pretzel and nods at the girl while Remy wheels him out the door.

When they get back to the cars, the kids have gone, but one guard still waits nervously by the BMW.

Charles pulls out the gun and hands it to him, “Get rid of that.”

“Sir!?”

Remy sighs and pushes Charles to the backseat. “Don’t ask.  He just lost his damn mind is all.”

The guard stuffs the gun his pants and rushes to help Charles out of the chair.  Charles lets him, his heart is beating a million beats a minute.  “I think I handled myself well.  Erik would be proud.”

“That dong slinging son of bitch could suck my dick, for all I care.”

“Remy!”

The guard’s ears turn bright red but he doesn’t come.  He quickly takes his seat up front after packing away the wheelchair. Charles puts the divider up and leans back, relaxing after all the excitement.

Remy is staring down at his lap, “You realize you have raging boner, right?

Charles smirks, lets his head falls back and sighs.  “Yep.”

Remy turns away, “Well I ain’t helping you out with it.  You can nut on yourself for all I care.” 

Charles shrugs, “It’ll go away.”

Remy picks at some invisible dust on car door, “…thank you.”

Charles smiles, but doesn’t say anything.  For some reason, he’s really _very_ satisfied.


	16. Swing Time with Freckles & Ginger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra Special Thank You to @sprinklesofsunshine  
> who offered to beta this (THANK YOU THANK YOU)  
> I'm always crying about help so thank you so much for reaching out and helping me ^_^

Charles expected more concern or maybe a shouting match when he returned. Remy was on his phone, texting for a great deal of the ride. He heard the driver call in about the newly acquired gun. There was noise from the mall as the police were called. He expected an order to lock him away, with Darwin enforcing it with a grim face.

What he gets is a ride home, a waned hard-on, and Remy slowly mellowing from his high and all the action. Remy gives him a kiss in the garage and Logan meets them at the door. He whisks Remy away like a prince in a fairy tale and Charles is happy. Finally, someone sees Remy like he does and loves him too. In a strange surprise, his kids don’t run off with their haul. Instead, they crowd around Charles with the smaller kids who didn’t go. They bought balloons and get well cards for Aston. Charles ends up in his library, accepting gifts they thought to buy _him_ with _their_ allowance. He tries not to cry while watching as they shower attention on each other like brothers and sisters. There’s so much noise and movement, Charles almost forgets about holding up a pair of mall clerks at gunpoint.

The noise dims and Charles retires to his father’s office.

He barely registers the footsteps behind him, but he’s not surprised to look up and find Darwin and Alex.

Alex is smiling like it’s Christmas morning, “I hear you went all Scarface to defend Remy’s honor.”

Darwin rolls his eyes, “I say he was more Michael Corleone. The pinnacle of educated OG-ness. He is the Professor after all.”

Alex bumps shoulders with his partner, nodding. “Totally.  Professor Corleone. We should get him a tommy gun.”

Charles sighs, the teasing poking an unexpected nerve. “Please. No more names.”

Darwin judges him with a raised eyebrow while Alex stands there snickering. Darwin finally nods and slaps Alex in the chest, “Alright then. But you’re in timeout until the boss gets back. In the meantime, I need a real rundown of what happened. While you and your minions were playing with new toys, I was on the phone with Warren. He’s had to do some serious bending and padding to cover your ass. Your cute little mug is all over the mall security cams, you know.”

Charles lies, “Sure, of course. I knew that. But it had to be done.”

Darwin crosses his arms and leans against the desk. Alex mirrors him and glares. Given how the younger man was laughing a moment ago, Charles pays him no attention. He focuses on Darwin.

“I’m serious. Didn’t you put it to Erik that I should be more involved with family business? This was exactly that. The kids liked it there. They like this city. Shouldn’t we do everything we can to make sure they’re safe? I don’t imagine you and Erik can stamp out the violent side of things altogether without strong-arming the influences of other families too. I merely wanted to make that clear to that piece of refuse before he got near anyone else. Remy is still so vulnerable. So is Jean and Scotty.”

“Woah,” says Alex with a raised hand, “Don’t clump my brother in with your Orphan Annies, okay. I’ve always taken care of him. He doesn’t take drugs, he don’t smoke or drink…”

“He steals cigarettes and he stole a bottle of brandy from the kitchen.”

“What?” says Darwin and Alex at the same time.

“Jubilee tells me he used to take things at the Heart of Gold. He’s bragged about stealing at school.  And according to her, he tries to peer pressure the others into drinking with him as well.”

Alex stands there looking gobsmacked. Darwin says, “I find that hard to believe…  Maybe the kids are picking on him?”

“No,” says Charles shaking his head, “We had a long talk. He said he started it to cope with your parents dying. And knowing you were away. But he’s a good boy, Alex. He hasn’t done anything since we talked.” Charles gives him a reassuring pat on the knee, “But you have to understand my reluctance to allow temptation near them. They are all healing from one thing or another. I know I can’t shelter them; most are far too jaded for that, but I want to protect them all the same. And at that moment, seeing that predator lying in wait for someone like Remy, I just had to do something. I’m sorry it was so dramatic. Do you think Erik will understand?”

Alex shrugs and Darwin rolls his eyes. “Drama is Erik’s middle name.”

They leave him with pats on the shoulder and the knowledge that Erik will be home soon and Warren is gifted bullshitter.

* * *

 

Erik doesn’t come home that night and sometime after one in the morning, the white noise falls away. The kids are safe and asleep. Erik called in from his hotel and tiredly reported he was well and coming home in the morning. Remy also checked in with him to let Charles know he wanted to go back to the heart of Gold.  Just for a few days to talk to Ororo. Charles runs out of distractions and worries, and he’s left facing a new reality. He lies on his side and stares across at the empty pillow. When it gets to be too much, he sits up and opens the top drawer of his side table.

“There,” he says, taking out his yellow duck. He props it up on Erik’s pillow, straightens his legs and lies down on his back. “We should keep an agenda or something. We should organize our days and schedule things. Keep busy. It’s different now, you know. But I’ve always kept to a routine. I see Johns at regular appointments. Make payments at regular times. Go to the store on regular days. Clean my rooms at regular hours. If I can keep things set and organize, I can control things. It’s like having power over time and space.”

The duck stares up at the ceiling with its beady eyes as if to say, “ _Cool story, bro_.”

Charles sighs, not bothering to knock it off the bed for being rude. “I suppose if you’ve only lived your whole life unmoving in a dusty old house, you wouldn’t agonize over more of the same.” A tear falls down his face as he thinks about it, “But that’s not me.  I’ve never been still. Not really. Routine, yes, but not this. Not still. And I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to…”  He chokes back a sob, thinking of how much he loved running. Charles was never a sports enthusiast but he was fit. He could out run almost anyone because he had to. He could _fuck_ almost anyone because he had to. He could climb and duck and roll and fight, and good god, he thinks. He earned it. He earned those skills and muscles. And now…

The duck falls over on its side, and being an inanimate object, it stays there.  

Charles frowns at the thing before helping it up again, “It’s okay.” He knows it will fall over again but he wipes his eyes and whispers, “It’s going to be okay.”

He goes to sleep, wanting to succumb to a black sleep, dream of nothing, and wake up without any memory of its passing.

But he sleeps fitfully, waking with aches and discomfort. Tossing and turning, adjusting his limbs. And putting the duck back on the pillow.

* * *

 

Erik comes home with bags under his eyes and bruised ribs.

Everyone is too busy making a fuss over him to talk about Charles and the little misadventure in the mall. Or the diagnosis. Charles imagines a countdown clock on the back of Erik’s head while he holds court outside. He seems happy to be back in the house. He sends the kids off to fetch him food and drink. He gives orders and takes reports, all while sitting shirtless on a patio while Hank examines him.

Charles sits a little behind him, watching while Hank makes a new face every time he takes in his bruised patient. Little Aston pops in to let everyone know he lost a tooth when he coughed up one marble and that two more came out his poop that morning. He gives them a gapped-tooth smile and brandishes a marble in his little hand.

He never says _where_ it came from so no one else dares to touch it.

It feels like ages but everyone in the house seems to gravitate to that little garden and Erik’s side. Hank finally gives the all clear but wags his finger, “Don’t think I won’t want this scanned later. I’ll be watching you, sir.” He shuts his medical bag and stomps off.

Erik laughs after, “Look at that. He’s getting quite the temper lately. Don’t you think?”

“Erik…”

“To think he used to be mild-mannered. He could follow Essex up for anything but he was always so matter-of-fact. It’s like the boy didn’t have mean bone in his body.”

“Erik…”

“And now look at him.” He grins at Charles while gesturing to his wrap sides. “I’m sure this is way too tight. I wonder what he’s mad at me for this time. Should I be paying him more or something?”

Charles doesn’t feel the first tear fall down his face, but he blinks and blinks when his vision blurs. “Erik.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I’ve got something to tell you.” He wipes his face and takes a deep breath. He looks down at his feet, sitting in the stirrups. “I um… I held some guy at gunpoint yesterday.”

Erik laughs “I know. Darwin told me.”  He grins like a Cheshire cat, “Don’t think I won’t put you to work, Freckles. You could get some training from Raven and Angel. When you’re healed I can drop you off rooftops and let you take whole buildings hostage. Or rob a bank! I haven’t done that in ages! It can be our second honeymoon.” He laughs at his own joke, stands up and comes over slowly. He wipes away Charles’s tears. “It hurts to laugh, but I hate to see you crying. Come on, Freckles. Give me a smile. I’m not mad.  The whole thing is settled.” He combs his big hands through Charles’s hair and rubs his temples.

It helps Charles calm down long enough to finish, “It’s not that. I can’t… I can’t walk, Erik. Hank says the healing has stopped. I’m not getting get back up from this.”

Erik’s face falls, tears falling down his face before he speaks. “Okay.” He wipes his nose, “Well. We knew it was possible. Right? Anticipated such an outcome. That’s why we prepared. The house is ready. And you’re strong. And you’ll only get stronger. And I’m right here.”

Charles cries and pulls until Erik comes up to meet him halfway in a hug. It’s not comfortable, and everything outside their arms is terrible. In that moment, Charles can’t imagine a life where Erik puts up with him for long or where he won’t tire of Erik’s coddling. Erik backs away smiling, “You’ll see. You’re already the strongest person, smartest, most sly little shit I know. And if helping me rob a bank makes you feel any better…”

Charles hiccups and laughs, “We’re not robbing any banks, you bloody hoodlum!”

Erik brushes back the fringe from his eyes and kisses Charles on the corner of the mouth, “Have I ever told you how cute it is that you get so British when you’re angry?” Charles pinches Erik’s leg but he only laughs, “Okay. Whatever you say boss. No bank robbing.”

* * *

 

A few days later, Charles feels more recovered. He gives the yellow duck an honoured place on his wheelchair, seated upright in the carriage under it and going wherever Charles goes. Erik invites him to listen in on various meetings. The teachers report to him on the kids’ progress. Good marks all around. And Aston has stopped eating strange things. He studies for his GED and leaves some material out for Remy. He hopes his friend will reconsider. A session with Dr. Koenig reveals that Charles is afraid of the attic. He’s not sure why. Erik finds this really funny and goes up there on a dare. He comes back with a distant look in his eyes and promises never to talk of the attic again.

A day after that, Warren visits the house at lunch time with his Magda doppelganger, Ms. Ferra. Charles sits with a tight smile while Warren kisses her goodbye a little too long.  Erik grins and behind his hand he coughs, “Told ya!”

Charles waves as the woman finally gets her bag up, anticipating her departure. She is indeed tall, like Magda. But that’s about the end of their similarities. She’s more muscular, square jawed; what one would call a handsome woman. Dominant and little brusque. And very much the picture of Erik in a wig. Charles likes her instantly, but it’s a little worrying. Perhaps Warren, with all his bright white teeth and chiseled chin, is secretly in love Erik after all?

Darwin tries to thank her for coming by with Warren’s ledger but somehow the couple ends up kissing again. They finally part for air and she walks away.

Erik slumps dramatically in his seat, “Thank god! I was drowning in all that PDA!”

Warren clears his throat and straightens his tie, frowns down at them before sitting.  “You should talk. I still have an ongoing bet that you two would fuck in public, if it suited you.”

Erik eyes go distant and Charles smiles while reaching across the table to him, “Mmmm, the honeymoon was nice.”

Erik nods, “Good times.”

Darwin covers his face, “For some people.”

Warren raises a brow, looking every bit the TV personality he is, “And is there any video evidence of this? I have to know for legal reasons. Mostly.” He winks at Charles and it’s a little surprising.

Charles blushes and catches himself before he giggles turning away like a schoolgirl, “Don’t! Not in front of my husband and Darwin.”

Darwin rolls his eyes and slaps his forehead, “I suggested you hang around and learn the details to keep that ginger, stabby maniac from being distracted. I had a perfectly calm boss a minute ago. Now look at him,” he gestures at Erik. Erik stares at Warren with a tight grip on his fork and a little vein in his forehead, “He’s got anxiety.”

Everyone but Erik laughs.

So Erik excuses himself, “I’ve already read over these papers. I have other things to do in the house today.”

Charles is still shaking with laughter when says, “No, babe. Stay here and help me read all this.” With the ledger is two heavy stacks of paperwork, “Please.” He says high and sweet, batting his eyes.

Erik pouts before getting out of his chair. As he rounds the table, he slaps Warren upside the head.

“OW!”

“Don’t smile at my husband while I’m out the room!”

Warren shines a megawatt smile at Charles, “Shall we start with the revised insurance policies?”

Darwin nods, “And the wills.”

“Wills?”  Charles flips through some of the paper in front of him. “Has Erik written a new will?”

“You both have,” says Warren pushing something forward. “I suggested some changes given the current situation. You’re still his named heir, as Simon Lehnsherr. But he added some changes in case anything happens to you both. His assets and the estate will be broken up between Magda, Darwin, Raven, Ororo, and myself. He’s added provisions to take care of the kids and some other things.”

“…back up. I have a will?”

Warren smiles at him again, but it does nothing for Charles. Charles had somehow forgotten that the word ‘lawyer’ is synonymous with ‘Condescending Prick’. Warren pats the papers and throws Darwin a knowing look, “It’s not that complicated, and it’s really a draft. Just look over it and we’ll make any changes you want.  Just sign the…”

“Fuck you,” says Charles rolling back from the table. “I’m reading every word of this.   _Everything_ on the table.”

Warren sighs and Darwin and gives up, face planting on the table.

* * *

 

Charles goes back upstairs with a pounding head.

Erik’s provisions to his own will is one thing, but making one for Charles without his input is another. He reviews the insurance documents and living wills as he waits in the elevator. Erik has some kind of ‘after age’ DNR and that will have to be addressed in person with a lot of screaming.

Charles is in a bad mood; between the wills and Warren’s smarmy voice on repeat in his head, he could just punch a hole in the wall. He’s so relieved to reach his room door, he sighs. “I need a good long nap. And maybe Antiques Roadshow on my tablet…”  He’s just smiling to himself when the door swings open.

He’s so shocked, he stares for a full minute before turning to the hall.

“Erik! Erik, come up here! Someone’s stapled belts all over my ceiling!”

Erik comes out of the bathroom, with a wide goofy smile on his face. The one reserved for his, ‘I Had A Cunning Plan’ explanations. He grins and gestures at the monstrosity.  “It’s a sex swing! I put it up myself.”

Charles looks down at the wills in his lap. Then up at the swing, “So this is how I die.”

Erik pouts again, and for a man his age, Charles thinks it ridiculous. Cute, but ridiculous.  Erik crosses his arms and nods, “Do you even know what it is?”

Charles raises an eyebrow, sits back and crosses his arms. He can wait.

Erik crumbles, “Okay, of course you know what it is. That’s not the point. The point is, I was thinking about what Dr. Koenig said. Giving you more independence.”

“How is tying me up to the ceiling going to help?”

 

Erik shrugs, “There’s a harness and support for your back and legs. You’ll be suspended and we can try new positions and find one that’s more comfortable for you to,” he motions with his hands out while thrusting his hips obscenely.  Then has the nerve to say, “Honestly, Charles. I’m not trying to be an ass here.”

Charles rolls his eyes, “No, you’re trying to get at _mine_.”

“Why are you so dramatic?”

“Why are you like this?” Charles gestures at the oddity, “Why couldn’t you just tell me first, hm? Why couldn’t we talk about it and plan it together. Why did you grab your _one_ screwdriver and a folding chair, climb up there and duct tape belts to my ceiling?”

Erik rolls his eyes before taking a deep breath. He claps his hands together and shakes out his neck like he’s preparing for a marathon.  “Okay. I take it you’re more upset with the execution, than the actual thing.”

Charles stops and stares at it, uncrosses his arms and looks at Erik carefully. “…Yes.”

“So,” says Erik with equally careful smile, “What we’re going to do is ask one of the professional chaps downstairs to come up and help me out. And for the record, I have many screwdrivers. And a stepladder. Actually, I know Logan can probably do it but…”

“I don’t want him in here.”

“Right,” nods Erik.  He gives Charles another tiny, careful smile. “I think we just did the thing. Resolved one our conflicts with the doctor’s orders. I feel pretty good about it.”  He tiny smile turns into infectious wide grin.

Charles reluctantly smiles back, “I guess I do too. It's not that hard. Keeping the little things from piling up into bigger problems, right?”

“Right,” nods Erik.

Charles nods, “So we’re fixing the wills tomorrow.”

Erik is still nodding but he says, “What?”

Charles wheels over to the bed to better inspect the thing hanging over it. “Where’s the support rack? You didn’t just buy a harness, did you?”

Erik moves around to the bed and climbs on it, pushing the thing out the way.  “What was that about the wills?”

“Well,” says Charles throwing the papers on the bed, “That’s not going to work. It’s completely stupid.  There’s no mention of Remy or the kids…”

“You can amend yours for course.”

“And what makes you think I’d approve of a DNR?”

 

“What?”  Erik climbs over the bed, shuffling the papers and ducking under the swing as it comes back. “It’s my business. My life. I don’t need your approval for it.”

“Of course, you do,” says Charles, “As a matter of fact, I agreed to stay at your side for a damn long time. You don’t get to check out over something stupid after…. after,” he digs in the papers until he finds the page.  He throws in Erik’s face, “Age sixty-five!  Honestly, Erik! What if you choke on a cherry or something… That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever read! And I had a Stephanie Myers faze!”

“What?” says Erik again. Like the intelligent criminal mastermind that he is.

Charles rolls his eyes, “It was kind of a one-off joke, you know. But it’s so bad, I had to finish it and Remy…”

“No… back up. I’m not changing the DNR. I don’t want to be a living vegetable or something. What if I take brain damage and become a burden. You can’t…  you shouldn’t have to deal with that too.”

Charles narrows his eyes, “Till death do us part, asshole.  And if you think I didn’t _hear_ you just now insinuate I shouldn’t live in a wheelchair with you bedridden…”

“It’s not that…”

“Shut up, Erik!” Charles slams his fist down and backs away from the bed, “I will take care of you. And we will… we will take care of each other. With every last breath, we have. Otherwise,” he says blinking away tears, “what’s the fucking point in vows and shit?”

Erik shrugs, stepping off the bed to kneel beside him and kiss his hands, “Okay. You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He kisses every knuckle on Charles’s left hand and then the wedding band. “I’m sorry. I get it.”

Charles pulls his hand away, “I hope you do. I really hope you do, because if you don’t I’m calling Warren up to write divorce papers. I’m not living with someone who thinks less of me. You know that. I can’t hide this, and I can’t lie about this. And I shouldn’t have to feel small around you, Erik.  If you ever make me, I’ll…”

“Leave me and take the kids,” say Erik with sad smile.

Charles looks at him with a straight face before reaching out to twist his nipple. Erik screams and Charles hisses, “I’ll cut your fucking balls off you damn thug!”

Erik backs away rubbing his offended nipple through the shirt, “Alright! God! Don’t think I’m not bringing up this physical abuse with Dr. Koenig tomorrow.”

“Physical abuse?”  Charles waves a hand at the swing, “And here you are putting a death trap over my bed.”

“It’s not dangerous!” says Erik. He backs up and climbs up on the bed. “See? It’s perfectly secure with the hooks and rigging. You sit back here,” he says sitting on the odd strap. “Like a kid’s swing in the park.”  He sits there, triumphantly before grabbing another strap. And lie back, like so.”

Charles watches as his husband reclines in the swing.  The hooks at the top sound a sharp SNAP and Erik falls backwards on the bed with a crash. His legs are in the air, tied up in the seat and more straps.  The ceiling groans and Charles looks up, sighs, and back away just as a chunk of plaster comes crashing down on his husband’s face. “I’ll go get Logan.”

“Thank you darling,” says Erik around a mouthful of vinyl and plaster.

* * *

 

A few frosty nights teach Erik a lesson. Sort of. He develops a new habit. Before approving anything, he asks, “What does Charles say?”, or answers, “Whatever Charles wants.”

It’s _sickening_.

Charles brings it up in their next session and they end up screaming at each other for the entire hour.

Dr. Koenig lets them shout until they’re both out of breath. Near the last minute he calls time, like a referee. “That’s enough for today.”

“Fix it,” says Erik.

“Did you hear that? Am I the only one hearing him?”

“Shut up, Charles. For five fucking minutes…”

“Oh, I’ll shut up when you stop talking, you tall fucking, ginger wank…”

“STOP IT,” shouts Dr. Koenig. It’s the first time either of them has heard him raise his voice. “I’m going to share a little story with the two of you. Given how much you care about your family, the kids in your care and the people you employ, I want you to really listen, understood?”

Erik sinks back into his seat and Charles slumps in his, both of them red in the face from exerting so much energy.

Dr. Koenig takes off his glasses. It’s not the first time Charles has thought he looked familiar. A sick feeling drops in his stomach as the doctor puts a hand to his chest. “I don’t normally approve self-disclosure. It’s cheap and gimmicky, especially just to coax a reaction from a patient. But… I was raised in a house full of animosity. My brothers hated each other. My father hated my mother. My mother hated all of us. Our house was full of screaming or crying. I tried to broker peace when I could but it was never enough. And I think… it stoked the need in me to help people heal. Not just for themselves but for the families that needed them. I wish my parents had tried to work it out or realized sooner they were better off separate. I wish my brothers had been more honest about the kind of person my father was…”

Charles stares ahead at Koenig’s hand, the shape of his eyes and mouth. He gasps but doesn’t voice his realization. It’s too bizarre. Even for him.

Dr. Koenig puts his glasses back on, and with that the barrier between patient and doctor is re-erected.  “I’m not saying this as some throw away. Or asking you to sacrifice your own happiness for familial obligations. But consider the whole picture here. Consider everything, including your own happiness. Do you love each other enough to make it work? Really?”

Erik looks a little teary eyed and croaks, “I love him more than anything. Anything I’ve ever loved. More than myself, anything… everything. I do. I really do.” He looks across at Charles and wipes his face. “And I’m sorry if I’m slow to understand this. Maybe it’s against my nature. I’ve been selfish my whole life. I fight and tear things apart for a living. I’m sorry if I overdo it sometimes. But I love you. And… I need you to keep being who you are. Call me out on my bullshit.”

“Yes,” nods Charles, “Always.”

Erik grins and reaches out to take his hand, “I wasn’t done. I think I was going to say something moving and emotional.”

“Well, I get the gist of it. And I will always, always tell you when you’re being an asshat.”

Erik laughs and climbs out of his chair to kneel beside him, “And I’ll tell you when you’re being a spoiled, insolent bratty, child.”

“I wouldn’t say all that,” says Charles making a face.

“I wasn’t done.”

Dr. Koenig claps his hands together and the room seems lighter, the focus on Charles and Erik panning out and the real world coming back into focus. “Good work team. Charles, we have date in two Mondays. Erik, I’ll see you on Friday.” He gives them a warm smile and a frankly ridiculous bill.

But it’s worth it.

* * *

The next day is Thursday. And Charles wakes resolute to two things, which he explains to Erik before the sun's up and while they’re in bed.

Erik groans and whimpers a little while Charles works his hands up and down both their cocks. He’s not quite feeling it, but Erik is, and that’s important. “…So if I get a little office in town, I can be closer to the kids.”

Erik is panting, his mouth hanging open a little while he leans on Charles’s shoulder, gasping or nibbling on Charles’s neck and ears. He stops and frowns, “Wait, what?”

Charles renews his effort and Erik melts, head falling to Charles’s shoulder. Charles resists smiling, “And since Darwin reports there’s so many in need here, you know. Lots of kids that need a good home. Or a school. I was thinking… well what if we were the school? I mean, not just the house for criminal orphans and child prostitutes, but just… a bloody school in its own right. We’ve talked about that right?”

Erik nods a little, clearly about to cum and in no shape to argue. Charles smiles.

“So, I’m going into town today as kind of an ambassador of goodwill, with your name backing me. Simon Lehnsherr looking for the kids lost in the cracks. It might be in the other gangs territories. But I’ll have Alex, won’t I?” Erik’s whole body tenses, he freezes up and Charles rolls his eyes. “Seriously?  Mr. All day? That was barely two minutes! And if you came thinking of Alex, I will punch you in the throat.”

Erik grins and bites him hard on the ear. He moves Charles’s hand and takes over. Where Charles failed, Erik succeeds in getting a reaction. Charles is hard in a moment and slamming his other fist against the bed in no time.

Erik laughs, “Aha!  Two can play that game. I’m just getting started, you manipulative…”

“Fuck!”

“Yeah that,” says Erik between grinning and biting Charles on the neck.  Charles leans into and moans, almost forgetting his own Cunning Plan to distract Erik while delivering his news. Erik bites him hard enough that Charles feels something tingle down his spine, to his hips and to his cock. He squirms and Erik backs away licking his lips, “Darwin warned me about you looking up property in New York.  I wasn’t sure what you’re where planning, but this is… surprising. In a good way, Professor.”

“Mm,” moans Charles. “Then you’re not angry?”

Erik leans down and presses a soft kiss to the tip of Charles’s cock. He sits up and kisses Charles at the corner of his mouth, “On the contrary. I can’t wait to see what you do next, Freckles. Go on and surprise me.” He kisses Charles again and Charles follows him.  Erik pushes him back, grabs him by the sides and pulls until Charles is flat on his back. He gets up and straddles Charles’s legs, “As much as I love the idea of keeping you locked away, barefoot, naked, or dressed in fur and diamonds, I’m not going to say no to you choosing your own path. And you’re not going to blame me for blocking you…”

Charles pouts, “I’m not trying to set you up for an argument.” But he was prepared for one. And fur and diamonds? Really?

Erik gives him that damn _look_ , “Fine, I won’t argue that you were. But as we seem to exist in conflict and motion… Like yin and yang, I figure we each having our paths to follow independent of each other is a reasonable and healthy solution. And your business of bringing light to the world is exactly what my grandmother hoped for, it’s exactly the kind of legacy I what to leave my nieces and nephews.” He shakes his head looking down at Charles. “And your ambition to do so, is so fucking sexy.”

Erik kisses Charles at base of his throat and licks in the hollow of his right clavicle.  His hands hold Charles by the sides, his fingers spread and each point digging into Charles’s skin. Charles has a hard lump in his throat, “Christ, this shaping up to be a fantastic morning.”

Erik’s right hand comes up and covers Charles’s mouth. He lays himself carefully across Charles’s body, lining their cocks beside each other starts to rut. He shakes, sensitive from coming a minute ago, but he keeps pressure on Charles’s cock, letting the head of it catch in his navel.  The sensation is teasing and Charles trembles, wanting more of anything. The hand covering his mouth turns into to two insistent digits pressing at his lip, and Charles opens up. He sucks hard on Erik’s fingers, moans again, a low and happy sound. Erik shifts on top of him, pulls his fingers free and comes up to kiss Charles. His slicked-up hand strokes Charles’s cock. His own cock is hardening, tip rocking across Charles’s leg while he works his hand.

Charles raises his hand and grabs onto handfuls of the pillow behind his head to ground himself. He feels like could fly apart. And just as Erik brings him to the edge of coming, Charles looks up at the ceilings and sees the patch job Logan did. He’s laughs, feeling good all over with idiot husband sitting over him. He reaches up and grabs Erik by the back of his head, pulls him down for a long deep kiss.

Erik moves to the side, his cock hard on Charles’s leg, “What’s so funny, Freckles?”

Charles shakes his head, “You are, you giant nerd.” He pulls Erik again to kiss the tip of his nose and grin while the soft morning light starts filling the room. “I really love you, you know. You surprise me too. Sometimes in awful, bloody, nightmare inducing...”

“I get it…”

“But mostly you’re the sweetest man I’ve ever known.” He pulls Erik into a hug and sighs, happy and contented. For a few seconds. He frowns, “Erik?”

“Mmhm?”

“Stop rubbing your dick across my leg, you’re ruining the moment.”

Erik only doubles his efforts. Charles sighs. Just for this, he’s demanding furs and diamonds later.

* * *

 

Hours later, when they clean up and get ready for the day, Charles shows off in his other surprise.

Erik helps him get ready and stands back to admire the finished product with a wolf whistle.  “That suit certainly fits you, Charles. And I love it when you wear anything blue. Damn… Is there any reason we can’t stay here and fuck all day?”

Charles adjusts his cufflinks, “One, I’m not letting you destroy this suit.”

Erik snaps his fingers.

Charles grins, “And two, I’m not letting you have time to stew on this. I’m going out today and I’m finding my public office.” Erik sighs but keeps ogling Charles. It’s embarrassing and silly and makes Charles blush from the tip of his ears to his chest.  “Stop looking at me like that! We can celebrate tonight. You won’t even have to come in your own hand,” he promises.

Erik licks his lips, his eyes scanning Charles lasciviously. “I’m going to get a guy here to set that damn swing up properly and I am going fuck your brains out.”

Charles rolls his eyes, “There’s that Lehnsherr romance I’ve been missing.”

Erik shrugs and makes a face, like he’s back a laugh, “Admit it. I’m the best you’ve ever had.”

Charles grabs his things and starts to wheel out the room, “You damn peacock. We’re not doing that again.” He turns and goes out the room backward, popping a little wheelie and smiling as he does so. He’s been practicing whenever Hank and Nurse doom aren’t around.

“If you’d just be honest with yourself…” Erik is still smirking, hands in his pockets and watching Charles leave.

Charles laughs as he turns the corner with a fake scream, “OH FUCK YES!  YES!  You’re the best I’ve Ever had!  The biggest!  Oh, fuck yeah!  Oh, fuck yes!”  It’s line for line from one memorable time on their honeymoon when he just wasn’t into it, but Erik was very happy dressed up as a cop.

Erik peeks out the room, looking disappointed, “No!”

“Oh yes!” Charles pops another wheelie and turns around, cackling.

Hank stands at the end of hallway, looks at them both and sighs. He turns on his heels and goes back the way he came.

Charles imagines some cool music playing in the background while his chosen crew assembles. Remy dressed like Cajun cowboy, but he somehow pulls it off. Alex’s look says Secret Service Junior. Still, Charles is certain he looks good. He puts on sunglasses while he slides over in the car, Remy on one side and Alex on the other. The driver is a large muscular man and the naughty part of Charles wishes he could…  No, he thinks shaking his head. He’s not an addict or something. He can control himself. The handsome driver turns to him, “I want to thank you personally, Mr. Lehnsherr for taking care of my little Illyana. She says you’re very good man. I’m going to make you a pie.”  He smiles and Charles can’t help heating up a little.

Alex rolls his eyes, “That’s enough Piotr,” he puts up a divider and sits back, “Control yourself, princess.”

Charles blushes, being caught slipping by Alex is so annoying. “Fuck off, Alex. I’m not tolerating any familiarity from you today.  You show me any disrespect today and I’ll have Remy cut you.”

Alex scoffs, “Your junkie cunt friend couldn’t cut himself out of a paper bag.”

Remy raises a leg, stomps his foot on the headrest in front. He deftly pulls a knife out his boot, spins it in the palm of his hand, changes the grip and leans over Charles to stab the seat between Alex’s legs.

Alex looks a little blue in the face.

Charles continues with his business pulling out his new tablet and the notes he made on made for today’s itinerary.  “First thing is checking out around the river.” He shows them a map. Remy shrugs, uncaring.

Alex’s still shook from the demonstration, but he looks. He frowns at the empty offices Charles marked. “No. No. We’re staying near Westchester county today. This is not a neighborhood we’re gonna mess with.”

Charles scoffs, “Oh for fuck’s sake, Alex. It’s not that expensive. And it's not that far.  Maybe not the best neighborhood, but that's the whole point…”

“No,” says Alex tapping the screen, “That’s Shadow King shit. The boss would skin me if I let you walk into that.”

Charles flips through the listing, “Shadow king again? What kind of crap name is that for a gang? Gregorivich would laugh his ass off.” Charles finds just the right one, a little building with plenty of space and potential for housing kids in the city as well. “And I like this one. No harm in checking it out. We can always make it very clear to the that gang that we’re here and we’re staying.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including: 
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**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Cover art for "Cerberus"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7780882) by [avictoriangirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/avictoriangirl/pseuds/avictoriangirl)




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